The Girl with Golden Eyes
by Blue Eye Phantom
Summary: Young Drogo leaves his horde on a quest to find himself, stumbling upon a tribe thought to be dead for centuries. When his destiny entwines with a princess's, he must find a way to bring the enemy tribes together- or lose the girl with golden eyes. AU
1. Athdikar

**A/N: This is all pre-GoT and AU. Drogo and the boys are all 16ish. **

****IT HAS BEEN TREMENDOUSLY EDITED** As the story as progressed I feel that the beginning chapters were a bit less mature than the later ones, so I have altered them to match the tone of the ending. So there is a bit more swearing/sexual references. But I'm big into realism, and I think it has to be there.**

**Chapter 1 **

**Athdikar**

"I don't think he can do it," Mago commented to Qotho, just loud enough so Drogo could hear them as he walked out of Khal Drakkar's hut. He turned and glared at them.

"Mago fuck off. Didn't it take you a whole week to catch the ugly excuse for a horse you ride?" Drogo shot back. The boy frowned in embarrassment, looking around the bustling khalasar to see if anyone had overheard the comment. Although he noted no one was paying attention, Mago was about to draw his arakh.

"The herd is so far away now, you will have to walk through the forest to find them. I heard the Magyar live in there…Hope you're not scared!" Qotho interjected, not wanting to have a fight break out in front of the khal's hut.

"Like those even exist! You gossip like a girl Qotho," Drogo retorted. The Magyar were a fabled tribe, said to have golden hair and eyes. They had fought the Dothraki when the world was first created, but suddenly vanished, leaving the Dothraki to take over this side of the sea.

"At least I've _had_ girls," Qotho laughed. He never passed an opportunity to remind the other boys about his sexual prowess.

"Whores and slaves don't count, but way to have Qotho cover your ass, _Mago_." Drogo addressed the fuming young man. Then he turned and walked back to his hut where Drogo knew his father would be waiting to hear the khal's words.

* * *

><p>"What did the khal say?" Bharbo asked as Drogo finally stalked into the large hut, throwing his arakh down by the door in frustration.<p>

"Khal Drakkar wants me to leave to catch my horse tomorrow morning," Drogo answered, wrapping some dried meat and packing it up. The old blood rider nodded absently but seemed unsatisfied, "did he say nothing else?"

Drogo rolled his eyes, knowing his father couldn't see his face, "No. That is all he said."

Bharbo stood his full, monstrous height, towering over his crouching son, forcing Drogo to look up at him. Studying his father's features, Drogo immediately looked at his short, black hair and grinned inwardly. Bharbo was an angry fool, picking fights that were impossible to win and then taking his frustration out on Drogo's mother- at least she was free in the Nightlands now. The day he became khal was the day Drogo joined a band of wild horses and ate nothing but grass.

"What are you looking at, ungrateful child?!" Bharbo roared, picking Drogo up by his long, dark brown braid. He stifled a cry of pain as he was yanked to his feet.

"Your mark of shame. Isn't that what its there for?" Drogo spat, earning another sharp pull on his hair. His father was drunk, he realized.

"Get the FUCK out of my hut boy. Don't you dare come back until you learn respect," Bharbo yelled, punching Drogo in the back. Dropping him, the blood rider tried to kick Drogo in the ribs as he panted for air. He rolled out of the way, only fueling his father's unjustified rage. Drogo stood, facing Bharbo, ready for his next assault.

"You fight like a drunken whore. Move father, I am leaving," Drogo began hatefully, but his last words were calm and assertive. In a moment of sobriety, Bharbo looked at his proud son, standing his full height. His braid hanging down past his shoulders. The blood rider moved out of the path to the door, his son's green eyes never leaving his as Drogo grabbed his pack and stormed out the door.

* * *

><p>"You really shouldn't talk to your father like that."<p>

Drogo was startled out of his thoughts as he turned from the forest and back to the voice. Khal Drakkar stood behind him, an amused smile on his lips. Drogo was frozen with shock.

"Great khal, I, I apologize," He finished lamely, not knowing exactly what to say.

Drakkar laughed, a deep quiet sound, "No young Drogo, do not apologize. You are becoming a proud and skilled warrior, blood of my blood. Your pride is different than the other boys; while their's makes them blind and weak, your's makes you wise and strong. That is what makes a khal," Drakkar explained sagely. The bells on his long braid tinkled in the evening wind, reminding the world his braid had never been cut. Drogo was confused, the khal had never just _chosen_ to talk to him before.

"Khal Drakkar, I must leave," Drogo asserted, looking out at the forest. Drakkar sighed, understanding the young warrior's plight. After hearing Bharbo and Drogo fight for the hundreth time, the khal realized that he had always looked over Drogo, mainly because of his father. But he had grown much along with his braid.

"Sometimes the young bachelor stallion must leave his birth herd, in search of his own way. This is the way of life. But remember young Drogo- as the stallion's band grows, he is urged to come home. He comes to claim his birth herd," The khal told him, staring out at the same thick row of trees as Drogo. The young warrior looked up at Khal Drakkar with an unreadable expression.

"I do not think I can return to my birth herd, Khal Drakkar."

"Blood of my blood, your journey is just beginning. Go, capture your horse. Find your herd. You will come back, and I will wait eagerly to see the man you have become," Drakkar smiled down at him, seeing himself reflected in the determined face of the young warrior.

Drogo bowed his head in respect before slinging his bow over his back along with his bag and heading out into the forest; in search of the wild horse herd. Khal Drakkar watched him disappear into the night,

"Goodbye _Khal _Drogo, find your stallion. And when the time is right, return to rule the hoard."

* * *

><p>When Drogo finally found the huge herd, the first rays of dawn were visible over the jagged mountains. He could hear them rustling and whinnying in the nearby clearing. What surprised him was the color of most of the horses. Most were bright palominos, their golden coats shining in the light as though the had never run through mud. They were all tall too. <em>This can't be the herd Mago found, <em>Drogo thought, panning the horses once more. He locked onto a dark bay, obviously the stallion of the herd. The bay's head popped up and he honed in on Drogo, as if he knew he was being watched. The stallion began to move the mares farther away from the intruder and Drogo crept toward them as silently as he could. The mares soon thundered out of sight, the stallion galloping in the lead. Drogo sighed, at that breakneck speed, he had to be miles away by now; but the bay stallion reappeared from the trees- his tiny ears pricked forward toward the young warrior. The horse stood stock still as Drogo slowly made his way across the plain, snorting and rearing once the stallion deemed he was too close.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Drogo whispered, backing off a few feet. The stallion instantly stopped, staring at the intruder.

What both the stallion and warrior missed was that a pair of bright golden eyes were watching the scene intently from the forest.

"What can I do to make you trust me?" Drogo asked rhetorically, it had been hours and the bay stallion hadn't run off, but also wouldn't let him get any closer. Drogo turned his back, sitting down in a huff. The stallion jumped back in surprise, but his curiosity got the best of him and he walked cautiously up to the warrior. Drogo felt warm breath on his back and turned his head around to see the stallion sniffing him. Careful to not make any sudden movements,-the warrior slowly rose, holding his hand out to the horse for him to smell. After a moment of eyeing him suspiciously, the bay stallion head butted Drogo in the chest, knocking him down; the horse reared in triumph as he got back up.

"Does this make us friends?" Drogo asked. The stallion nodded comically, hopping on his back feet once more before walking up to the warrior. Drogo didn't have to think long before a name came to him, "You are the fastest stallion I have ever seen- Athdikar."

The stallion seemed pleased with his name, nudging Drogo's shoulder.

"Let's try something new," he said, putting his bow and quiver down in the grass and walking toward the stallion's back. Athdikar didn't move, but craned his head to watch as Drogo grabbed his mane and jumped agilely onto his back. He braced himself for Athdikar to run and buck, as most wild horses do, but the stallion stood still. _That was easy- oh shit. _Athdikar went down on his knees and proceeded to roll on top of him. Drogo managed to get his chest out from under the stallion's path before it was crushed, but his arm was pulled out of its socket.

"Ow," he said dryly. Athdikar reared and nodded his head happily, not moving from Drogo's side.

"He's going to keep doing that if you let him- it will teach him a bad lesson," A voice said in Dothraki, although the dialect was one Drogo had never heard before. His head throbbed as he turned toward the owner of the voice. His eyes finally focused on a massive cream colored mare with blue eyes. _Is this horse talking to me? Wow I hit my head hard._ He was relieved when a pair of legs hit the ground and a human face appeared above him. She had long, wavy hair that was only a shade darker than the mare, her tan face taken up by full pink lips, a small nose and large bright golden colored eyes. _Holy fuck._ Drogo thought, jumping up and grabbing a dagger from his pants pocket after grabbing for the nonexistent bow and arrows that had been strapped to his back. She looked just like a Magyar from the fables!

The girl looked around confused, as if she was trying to find the reason for his sudden action. Finding nothing but the herd coming back out from the trees, she looked back at him.

"What are you doing here?" She asked suspiciously, shocking Drogo by drawing a bow and stringing an arrow before he could blink. He was terrified, but kept calm. He was a Dothraki warrior, and was not going to be beaten by some girl, no matter what mythical tribe that could vanish into thin air she was from!

"Catching a horse."

She eyed him, looking him up and down. She masked her feelings well, but Drogo did notice her eyes stop on his bare chest a second longer than necessary. His eyes narrowed, unable to comprehend her actions.

"Aren't you a little pretty to be a Dothraki warrior?" The girl said as she circled him, grabbing his braid momentarily. Drogo frowned, he was not pretty!

"How do you know I am Dothraki? Who are you?" He asked, his voice showing his annoyance at her previous comment. She poked him in the chest with the point of her arrow when she faced him once more.

"I'm the one with a bow here, so I will be the asking the questions, pretty boy," she smiled wickedly, knowing her remark would anger him further. But he _was_ very pretty, she decided. He was also weird looking. She had heard stories about the Dothraki- they had dark, olive skin, and dark, almost black hair. The legends still had not prepared her for this. His arched eyebrows and large green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes gave him an almost innocent look; his perfectly shaped nose and beautiful lips added to the sweetness. Only his height, which towered over her, broad shoulders and chiseled muscles gave any impression of ferocity.

"And you are _speaking_ Dothraki, pretty boy. It wasn't that hard to figure out what tribe you're from."

Drogo sighed in frustration. This girl was getting on his last nerve; calling him names, looking at him like he was a horse for sale and _now_ she was taking shots at his intelligence!

"You're speaking Dothraki too, girl. At least women from my tribe know their place!" He yelled, grabbing the arrow along with the bow, to keep her from shooting him. Throwing it aside he grabbed her wrist and twisted it behind her. Drogo could feel her panting for breath as he held her up against him.

"Where I'm from, little boys don't steal other people's horses!" The girl yelled, stabbing him in the leg with an arrow from her quiver. He dropped her, dumbfounded. She had all the makings of a Dothraki blood rider. Looking down at her, her strange golden eyes showed no fear as every Dothraki woman's did. Drogo pulled the arrow from his leg, cringing slightly at the pain; immediately he felt the familiar sticky warmth of blood running down his leg. It was not stopping.

"And incidently, I am not '_girl_' I'm Aranyos," She spat defiantly, still on the ground. Drogo had the dagger pointed at her, but it wavered slightly as he became dizzy. The blood had soaked through most of his pants and he was becoming light headed.

"Sit down," Aranyos conceded, knowing the damage her arrow had inflicted was causing his leg to bleed profusely, "let me fix your leg."

Drogo eyed her. What the Hell sort of arrow was this? It had cut a much larger hole coming out than going in. Sighing, he sat down. She crawled over to him and ripped off the bottom of her loose shirt. Glancing around nervously, Aranyos called, "Arabejla!"

The cream mare came trotting over from the calmly grazing herd. Athdikar looked at her with interest. She went over and pulled a small green glazed jar from a saddlebag before returning to Drogo.

"What are you?" He whispered as she put some of the cooling salve on the wound before wrapping it tightly. Aranyos looked up at him, realizing that there was no pretense or double meaning in his dark green eyes.

"I'm from the Magyar tribe, we are just beyond the forest," Aranyos pointed past the dense brush to where there was a faint trail of smoke beyond the mountains. _They were so close to the Dothraki camp! Who did they never meet? _Drogo wondered, "What is your name pretty boy?"

Looking at the golden eyed girl's profile while she replaced the jar in the saddlebag. She was very pretty in a strange way, unlike any person he had ever seen- but exactly like how the elders explained the legendary Magyars.

"Magyar? I thought they were only a legend," Drogo admitted, Aranyos looked toward him, laughing quietly, "I am Drogo."

"Until today, I thought the Dothraki were only a myth my nurse made up to get us in bed on time," she replied, smiling at him. Drogo laughed. "how's the leg feel?"

"It feels fine… What did you put on it?" He asked, realizing that his wound didn't hurt anymore. She was about to reply when there was a nearby sound of horses galloping through the brush. Aranyos jumped up, hearing shouts in her native tongue. It was too late, they were almost upon them.

"Drogo," she breathed, her eyes full of sadness, "I am so sorry."

**A/N: Magyar is Hungarian, they are a real tribe during this medieval time period. Aranyos means "gold" in Hungarian and all the rest of the names are Dothraki or Hungarian.**


	2. Borok Haza

**Chapter 2**

**Borok Haza**

Drogo stood surrounded by Magyar warriors, they were shouting in a language he couldn't understand. Aranyos was yelling back something they obviously disagreed with and he was fighting to hide his awe. The tiny girl, who could have easily be subdued physically, was being listened to by all the men and seemed to have a large part in the discussion.

"We can't risk bringing him back to the city with us! The Dothraki will attack and destroy _everything_ in revenge!" One warrior told Aranyos. She stood her ground.

"So killing him and leaving his body to be found? How is that less likely to piss them off?" She shot back. The blonde man was frustrated by her, that was apparent. But she was right, "maybe if we are nice and hospitable, the boy will go home without rallying the troops."

"Princess Aranyos is right Zigere, we really can't survive a Dothraki pillage," another warrior added. She smiled at him in thanks. Drogo looked back and forth between her and them, hoping that against all odds, she was winning.

"Besides, he is wounded. We will heal him as-" the princess started.

Zigere cut her off, "an hour ago, I didn't think the Dothraki existed! They are said to be a legendary tribe known for _brutally_ _slaughtering thousands of people. _And you want us to _help_ him? You're lucky he didn't take advantage of you!"

"My father detests violence, you of all people know that, Zigere! He comes with us!" Aranyos yelled, her tone didn't allow any more discussion and warned the strawberry blonde that he was close to crossing a line. The warriors became quiet, but Zigere, not heeding her warning, was not finished.

"If he comes with us, he will come bound."

"His shoulder is dislocated. It is impossible to carry out our peaceful plan if we bring him to the city screaming in pain," Aranyos replied dryly. Zigere looked toward Drogo, his face furious.

"Fine. Back to camp!" The warrior shouted. The men instantly turned and headed back through the forest.

* * *

><p>"You're welcome pretty boy," Aranyos said sweetly, hopping up on Arabejla, "Come on, they will be expecting us."<p>

Drogo looked at her with a mixture of contempt and confusion. He was not going anywhere with her! Not only was she a Magyar (which he still hadn't fully gotten over), but quite frankly he was done being ordered around by a woman _and_ it was obvious the rest of the tribe did not want him there! He didn't speak Csango, but if its inflection was anything like Dothraki, Aranyos was the only thing standing between him and Magyar warriors who wanted him dead.

"Sometime _before_ you grow facial hair?" Aranyos interrupted his train of thoughts and he glared up at her. She laughed.

"Why should I trust you? I don't speak Csango, but it didn't sound like they liked me much." Drogo replied dryly.

"They saw you trying to steal the bay stallion," Drogo opened his mouth to argue that point, but she shot him a look that cut him off, "either come and let me try to appease my father, or you can leave and the warriors will hunt you down like a dog."

He looked up at her, unable to believe the words that came out of this girl's mouth. Drogo was not used to women who spoke so freely… or made him death threats. Aranyos, was interesting to say the least. He had no doubt the Magyar warriors would do exactly as she said, and his wouldn't be able to fix his shoulder by himself. As much as Drogo hated to admit it, he needed help.

"I'm not walking."

"Well if you can stay _on_, ride the bay stallion. But I _won't_ drag your crushed body to the city, so try not to let him roll on you again," Aranyos smiled smugly at him, but she watched the stallion stare intently at Drogo; they were bonded. He made a funny face at her, unable to help himself, as he jumped on Athdikar.

"The Dothraki are the horse lords of this side of the sea. My _father _is the best horse breaker in our whole tribe," Drogo retorted. Stupid girl- it wasn't his fault the stallion was clever enough to throw him.

"So it skipped a generation," Aranyos called over her shoulder as she and the cream mare galloped off into the forest. Drogo spurred Athdikar on to chase her.

"Blah blah blah so it skipped a generation blah blah blah," he mocked. Athdikar was slowly gaining on her, Drogo could see the mare's color flash in the sunlight between the dense trees. He would show _her_.

* * *

><p>After a minute of galloping full-tilt, Athdikar was running neck and neck with the mare, who Drogo had come to find was called "Arabejla". Suddenly, Aranyos pulled up and stopped by a mountain pass.<p>

"Here we are," she said simply, once Drogo had gotten Athdikar stopped and turned around. He was beyond annoyed.

"You did that on purpose. You knew you were going to lose so you stopped!" He yelled. Aranyos looked shocked at his claim.

"We have to turn here, it had nothing to do with me slowing down to let you catch up. But I'm glad you didn't fall off, you are getting better," she retorted, trying to contain her laughter.

"Whatever." Mother of the Mountains he wanted to kill her.

Aranyos began down the new mountainous path, but allowed Drogo to walk next to her, "So what brings you out here?" She asked, as though contempt was not radiating off of the boy in waves.

Drogo was silent for a minute, the events of the day before coming back to him with perfect clarity, "I am supposed to be taming my horse. it's a Dothraki right of passage; once I return home I will be an honorary blood rider."

She eyed him for a moment, seeing his dark gaze and tensed jaw. For the first time, Drogo looked scary to Aranyos, "that's it? I don't think that's it."

"Why would I explain my entire fucking life to some stupid girl from an enemy tribe?" Drogo asked, although there was no room for an answer. He could feel Aranyos' eyes on him as he stared forward and he almost immediately felt guilty. Obviously, women were treated differently in the Magyar tribe, and "Aranyos" was not used to being spoken to in the way he was used to speaking.

They rode in a tense silence for a long while until Drogo finally had to say something, "I had to leave."

Aranyos turned her head to him, startled by his quiet confession. His face was still dark and unreadable, but she could tell it hurt him to say it. It seemed to be almost a confession, "they banished you?"

"Something like that. A self-imposed banishment. I don't belong there," Drogo replied softly. She smiled sadly at him until a thought occurred to her,

"You don't _have_ to be nice to me. I will still try to save you."

"I know," Drogo replied emotionlessly, his guard back up.

"Why? How could you possibly know that?" Aranyos asked pointedly. She was sick of him acting like he was better than her just because he was a boy. She had heard stories, but nothing had prepared her for his crude sexism. Drogo looked at her calmly, and for the first time since they had met she saw no competitiveness in his face.

"You are not the Dothraki," according to the legends he had been told, the Magyar were a peaceful tribe, always ready to make alliances with old enemies or help another tribe. They were the exact opposite of the Dothraki. That's how Drogo knew.

"So if our roles were reversed…?"

Drogo made a point of looking her up and down slowly, his face disturbingly unreadable. It caused Aranyos to blush furiously and fight the urge to stab him again. Finally he answered, "you'd be in Hell."

"There is no such thing as mercy in the Dothraki tribe?" She pressed once Drogo lapsed into silence once more.

"No. Mercy is for the weak," Drogo quoted stonily, Aranyos was more terrified of the Dothraki, and of the boy (whom she noted was much stronger than herself), than ever before.

* * *

><p>"Princess Aranyos! We were about to come looking for you! Your father is worried sick," a warrior told her as the entered the outskirts of the camp. He looked like the rest of them, tall, blonde with golden eyes. The warrior looked Drogo up and down, trying to hide his fear. He saw a young man, with deep olive skin and dark brown hair braided down his back; if that was not enough, he was sitting on a massive stallion without a bridle or saddle, the horse standing calmly. This was what a Dothraki warrior looked like.<p>

"We will come to see him in a moment, first fetch the healer and tell her to come to my rooms," Aranyos told him in Csango, looking toward Drogo. The warrior nodded and ran off.

"Come with me, I've called the healer, she can fix your shoulder. The men will take care of your horse," she said calmly, gracefully leaping from the saddle. A groom came and took the cream mare to the stables. Drogo realized he had neither a bridle or saddle on Athdikar, which would make it hard to "take him" anywhere. A groom returned with a rope that he made a makeshift halter and lead from on Athdikar's head. The stallion reluctantly walked away with the man.

Aranyos led him through the dirt street of the city, more and more people coming out of their huts to see the fabled "Dothraki warrior" who was said to be in their city. Drogo was amazed that every person was blonde with golden eyes, just like the stories. The city was a permanent one, judging by the stone huts. It was clean and beautiful, mirroring the people who stood outside to see him. Men glared at him, women held their children close, young boys puffed out their chests and girls giggled. Everything was spoken in a language he did not understand, most likely Csango. The road brought them to the largest stone castle Drogo had ever seen, but in many ways reminded him of the khal's hut in Vaes Dothrak. A man opened the door and Aranyos looked back at him to make sure he was following her.

"How do you like Borok Haza?" She asked as they walked up the stone stairs. It had been the first thing Aranyos had said to Drogo since they had gotten into the city.

"It is much like Vaes Dothrak, but I am led to believe you are not just some commoner," Drogo replied, looking around at the intricate rugs, stained glass and decorations in the stone mansion. Suddenly it made sense why she wasn't just treated as some woman, she was a khalakki- a princess. She smiled guiltily,

"I might be the princess."

"I should have guessed," Drogo laughed humorlessly, thinking about how she fended off the warriors in the forest; she had too much training to be a commoner. She let him in one of the doors, which opened up to a large well furnished room with a roaring fire in the fireplace. He had never seen anything like it.

"Princess! I am glad to see you safe and back home! What did we need healing?" An old woman jumped Aranyos and hugged her fiercely. She smiled. The old woman's happiness faded when she saw the huge mass looming behind the princess, the rumors were true.

"This is Drogo, his shoulder is dislocated from an incident with the bay stallion," Aranyos explained. The woman was in awe of him, and began speaking in Dothraki.

"A Dothraki warrior! I haven't seen one of these since I treated a boy long ago, come Drogo. I can fix your shoulder very easily," the old woman said kindly, ushering him to sit on the green couch near the fire place. Swallowing his annoyance, he did as he was told. Aranyos' eyes were wide with wonder,

"You met a Dothraki warrior before?"

"Yes, he was just a boy, trying to catch his first horse. Probably the same age as you young man," the healer said laughing.

"What was he like?" Aranyos pressed. The older woman touched lightly on Drogo's shoulder, feeling the damage. He winced in pain.

"Well haven't we just torn up our shoulder! You must have pulled all the muscles possible. This will hurt. He was tall, dark skin, brown eyes, black hair. Handsome, wise young man," she commented airily.

"What was his name?"

"Ah, it was many years ago young princess. I do not recall-"

"Drakkar," Drogo said, his expression blank. He suddenly understood why the khal had told him everything about the stallion and the herd now; it was because he had lived it. He had found the Magyar's herd, caught one of their horses and had ended up returning to the Dothraki. Aranyos looked at him curiously.

"Yes! That was his name! How do you know that?" The woman cried cheerfully.

"He is Khal Drakkar now," he replied quietly. Without further comment on the touchy subject, the healer explained what she was going to do to his shoulder, and it seemed sensible enough to Drogo. It hurt like Hell.

* * *

><p>"Try to not move the shoulder, it needs to heal properly first," the healer told him sternly and he nodded, accepting his temporary fate of being under the rule of women. Aranyos (who had left minutes before to another room in her apartment) returned wearing a white dress that touched the floor. The straps wrapped around her shoulders and tied in the back. Her light blonde hair was brushed into wavy ringlets and for the first time, Aranyos did truly look like a princess.<p>

"My father wants to see us, namely _you_. But I worked my way in," she admitted jokingly, getting Drogo to follow her back down the stairs and into the great hall.

"Aran! I am so glad you are safe!" the chief said once they walked in. Aranyos smiled to her father warmly, shooting a glare at Zigere, who stood next to the plump older man, "and who is this?"

"That, Chief Arpad is the Dothraki warrior we found with the princess, stealing a horse from our herd," Zigere explained haughtily, adding emphasis on 'with the princess'. The chief's face was shocked and Aranyos stepped in before the warrior could say anything else.

"_I _found him, father. And he wasn't stealing. He didn't know who's horse it was! Did Zigere mention that he rode the bay stallion all the way here without a bridle or saddle?" She glared at the warrior. Arpad looked back and forth between his daughter and Zigere, and sighed.

"Did he now? I know Dothraki boys are supposed to be good with horses, but that is truly amazing. What's his name?" Arapad asked, looking at Drogo with interest.

"This is Drogo, and yes! The stallion is in the stable, he has been named Athdikar," Aranyos said proudly, happy that her father seemed disinterested in what Zigere said. Drogo perked up once he heard his name and Athdikar in the Csango sentence.

"Athdikar?" Arpad asked, directing his question at Drogo.

"He is the fastest stallion I have seen, athdikar means speed in Dothraki," Drogo explained, looking at the chief but knowing Aranyos would have to translate for him.

"He says it means speed in Dothraki, and the stallion is the fastest he has seen," the princess told Arpad who grinned happily.

"And what brings the boy here?"

"Zigere made me bring him here, he wanted to kill him. But I did not think it wise to make the Dothraki angry, this was our compromise," Aranyos explained. Zigere realized that she was going to get her way, the king would let him do what he pleased- with _whomever_ he pleased.

"He probably led the Dothraki all the way here! They were hiding in the brush while he did God knows what to the princess!" Zigere yelled. How did nobody remember that the Dothraki were their enemies?

"Father, I promise, nothing has happened. Drogo told me he comes here alone. He has left the Dothraki," Aranyos defended. Arpad was beginning to get agitated at their nonsense,

"Silence! Both of you! Zigere, we have not had a Dothraki attack in the last thousand years, perhaps you should be a tad less harsh on the boy. Aranyos, he is a Dothraki. We can't take every word he says to heart," the chief mediated. His daughter was not one to lie, but she was also obviously attached to the Dothraki boy, making her slightly biased.

"Aranyos, why don't you show 'Drogo' to a guest room. Nothing will be decided tonight, for now he is a guest of the Magyar," the chief looked to Zigere before finishing, "and he will be treated as such."

Aranyos led Drogo back out of the room in silence. Once the doors closed she rolled her eyes and huffed, "I could kill him! Well, you are a guest for now, and I am to show you to a guest room. My father likes you."

"Is that what he was shouting? I couldn't tell," Drogo joked, although he was completely stressed out. The princess sighed, grabbing his hand and leading him out the door.

"I thought we were going to a guest room," He said dryly, resisting the urge to pull his hand back. Aranyos smiled mischievously back at him.

"Ever shot a bow made for 2 arrows before?" She asked. Drogo gave her what she interpreted as a little smile and took him into the armory.


	3. Just Like the Stories

**A/N: Look up Baywatch Hawaii…You can see what my little Khal Drogo looks like :P**

**Chapter 3**

**Just Like the Stories**

"Why do you know Dothraki?" Drogo asked after a long while; he had been sitting watching Aranyos shoot a target in complete silence. She could have been one of the best archers he had ever seen, and he began to wonder if every Magyar woman was taught the same skills as the men. She turned to him, lowering her bow.

"I don't know, so I can hang out with Dothraki boys," she shot sarcastically, not bothering to explain further. Let him think what he wished about her, Aranyos mused..

"Interesting idea," Drogo replied with false curiosity, imagining Qotho and Mago meeting the princess, although _meeting_ wasn't exactly the right word for what he imagined. Oddly, it was not an amusing thought, as it would have been a day earlier. He picked up an ax and examined it; it was the closest thing to an arakh the Magyars possessed, "but I don't think it would be what you had in mind."

The princess eyed him suspiciously, noting the sarcasm in his bland tone, "You don't expect me to believe you all are blood thirsty, raping savages, do you?" Aranyos countered as a small laugh escaped her. He was sick of everything being a joke to her. _Why was she not afraid of him_? The laugh died on her lips as she looked at him. Drogo turned to her, putting the ax back; the shadows playing across his face. In the dim lighting, he _did_ look frightening to the princess for a moment; Drogo's dark green eyes boring into her.

Finally his urge to scare her faded; she was the only one he could communicate with in the city and he resolved to not change her perception of him. If her thinking he was a noble, gallant, young Dothraki warrior- different than the rest, would keep her fighting for him, he would not crush her illusion.

Drogo's lips twitched into a smile, but he refused to concede her point, "you have _no_ idea."

* * *

><p>"Where <em>is<em> she?" Csilla asked, looking out her bedroom window in the castle. Aranyos was supposed to be back an hour ago.

"You know Aranyos, she's probably riding, or making out with Zigere or something. She's _fine _Csilla!" Gyongi replied for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, running her hand through her dark blonde hair. Her younger sister was always late.

"What if something bad happened to her? With that Dothraki warrior here and everything-" Csilla said, stopping as she heard the door open. The young princess stood in the doorway to her sister's lavish apartments.

"Where were we? I had to cover for you _again_," Gyongi informed her with annoyance, crossing her arms. Csilla ran up and hugged her best friend.

"I thought the Dothraki warrior killed you!" She confessed. Aranyos rolled her eyes good naturedly.

"No, I'm quite alive Csilla, and he's not exactly a warrior. _Making out with Zigere_? Come on!" Csilla sat back down on the couch with a giggle.

"Oh really? Are you suddenly a Dothraki expert?" Gyongi asked incredulously, observing her sister's mildly askew hair and dress. Aranyos narrowed her eyes at the judgment her sister was passing on her.

"I _found_ him! So yeah, I _do_ know," the princess shot back, walking into the adjoining bathroom.

"Arany, get back here and spill it," Gyongi called. Csilla laughed in agreement, knowing the girl wasn't sharing all of her information. Aranyos continued to wash her face, comb her hair and change into her nightgown before slowly returning to the eager girls. Sitting on the couch across from Csilla's, Aranyos waited for the onslaught of questions.

"How old is he?" Csilla asked slowly, not knowing where to begin. Gyongi laughed, settling back onto the plush chair.

Aranyos cringed, this question would open the door for many more, "he can't be older than 19."

Both girls made a knowing face and smirked, "what does he look like? I didn't get to see him, is he cute?" Gyongi asked eagerly. Aranyos blushed slightly, seeing Drogo's face and muscled chest in her mind.

"Dark- just like the stories. His skin is the color of the bronze fountain in the garden, his hair is dark brown and long; past his shoulders. He has green eyes," she finished, hoping that would appease the girl's curiosity. It didn't.

"Wow, a real Dothraki! I still can't believe they exist!" Csilla chirped in wonder. Aranyos smiled at her best friend, ignoring the bemused face of her older sister.

"He's probably not asleep yet…if you want to meet him _personally_," the princess joked. Csilla's eyes went wide in fright and Gyongi laughed.

"Wow, coming home late _and _making after hours visits? No wonder Zigere is seething mad," the older girl commented playfully, although she was deep down concerned for the safety of her younger sister _and_ her reputation.

"Hey! Its not like that. And is he really? He did behave horribly when we met with father- I think he wants Drogo dead. _Still_! After he obviously hasn't hurt me at all. He acts as though he has ultimate authority over me!" The princess fumed, trying futilely to push thoughts of the arrogant red head out of her mind. Although Aranyos was happy Drogo couldn't understand a word of the argument that took place in the throne room earlier in the day. Suddenly as a wave of exhaustion overcame her, as though all of the day's activities caught up to her. Aranyos was instantly sick of the girls' questioning, which was sure to bloom into a full-fledged interrogation, "I'm going to bed. See you both in the morning."

"Avoiding questions hmmm? Maybe we will just ask _Drogo_ ourselves," Gyongi taunted to Aranyos' retreating form.

"You are too afraid of him to do that. Good night!"

* * *

><p>It had taken Drogo until dawn to fall asleep, not for lack of trying either. He had laid in the huge cushy bed for hours. And now, although it was early, by the time Drogo had risen there was a tray filled with food on the table. He couldn't recognize half of the colorful things on the plate, eating only the apple and bread.<p>

"You should try the cherries."

Drogo turned to the door, completely startled. Aranyos was leaning casually on the doorframe dressed in a dark green full skirt and tight light green top; her hair was braided up away from her face and the rest hung down her back. She crossed the floor to him and picked up the cherries, setting down the grey bag she was carrying with her near the door.

"You haven't seen cherries before? _What_ do you _eat_?" Aranyos asked jokingly. Drogo thought for a moment, thinking back on his rather limited diet.

"Horse, and sometimes duck." The princess turned to him with an odd expression, as if she thought he might be joking.

"Well at least the stories were accurate, are you done?" Aranyos asked impatiently, "because we should go."

"Go where?" He replied almost agitatedly. The sun had barely risen over the mountains and this tiny girl was already bossing him around? She may have been the princess, but it still wounded Drogo's pride immensely. He only imagined what his friends- what _Mago_ would say if they ever found out about this.

Walking back over to the door and grabbing the cloth sack, the princess threw it to him which he caught easily, peering inside. Clothes. Magyar clothes.

"Get changed! We don't have much time," Aranyos ordered impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest and watching him expectantly.

'You just going to stand there?" Drogo retorted dryly, seeing her unmoving from her spot near the closed door. She slowly cocked her head sideways, as though fighting back a laugh.

"I didn't think that a Dothraki boy would mind, but if you're so bothered, I'll _leave_," she appeased, making no move to exit the room. Drogo exhaled noisily, fighting back his own laughter. If she wanted to play, then fine. He stepped toward her.

"I'd bet you've never seen a naked man before."

The princess walked forward slowly until she was toe to toe with the Dothraki boy, looking up at him. "No, but after you change you can help me find one."

She patted his chest condescendingly, reminding Drogo of how one pats a horse, before letting out a giggle and fleeing the room.

* * *

><p>On the field, the warriors were target practicing, each one using his own bales of hay to shoot at. Zigere was firing arrows in rapid succession and with deadly accuracy.<p>

"How's your shoulder?" Aranyos asked, looking up at Drogo as they walkied over to the armory. He rolled his shoulder once and felt only slight discomfort, perfectly fine for archery- regardless of what the old woman said.

The princess handed him a quiver and bow before leading him to the last open target, passing by the rest of the Magyar men. Most all of them stopped shooting to watch him.

"Dothraki boys can shoot arrows by the time they start walking, isn't that right?" She whispered to him as he lined up the target. Drogo smirked; that was another thing the Dothraki were known for, their archery. He had grown up holding a bow and although this one made by the Magyar was different, Drogo quickly adapted. The 20 warriors watched in horror as he fired off all the arrows in his quiver with precision.

* * *

><p>"<em>That<em> is why we fear the Dothraki," Zigere commented as he brushed past Chief Arpad. He had just watched the Dothraki boy shoot an arrow more accurately than any of his highly trained soldiers, with Princess Aranyos giving him her undivided attention. The chief sighed, looking across the field. He immediately saw the two, him holding the bow down at his side while she sat looking up at him, laughing. Arpad smiled reluctantly at the couple, knowing Aranyos was not happy with his decision, but the chief truly believed it was best for the tribe. Shaking his head sadly, he turned and left the field.

* * *

><p>The two rode in silence along the path in the forest. It was tense, as Drogo noted Aranyos' change in demeanor once she saw the red headed warrior, Zigere. She had lapsed into stony silence. It did not take a wise man to make the connection.<p>

"You truly hate this _Zigere_, what has he done to you?"

Aranyos stared forward, her lips set in a thin line and her jaw clenched. After a minute, she finally sighed and turned to him, "he is power hungry. It isn't what he's done, its what he's planning on doing."

Drogo wasn't one to pry, he wasn't one for talking in general. So he appeased himself with the thought that if she wanted to tell him, she would have- not that there was any reason for her to confide in him. Drogo nodded in acknowledgment, staying silent. Looking at the princess's profile as she stared forward, he realized that the Dothraki view of women was slightly askew. In two days this Magyar girl had shown bravery, wit, stubbornness, skill with a weapon & a horse and the ability to fight off a Dothraki warrior. That was the list of abilities a khal possessed, and never would Drogo have thought a woman could do any of those things.

"You like swimming?" Aranyos' now pleasant voice broke through his deep thought as Drogo realized that they were nearing a small body of water. The princess smiled mischievously and bounded from Arabejla, into the trees that surrounded the lake. Moments later, Drogo heard a loud splash as Aranyos' head popped out from the water, her long blonde hair floating behind her. Drogo smiled against his will and took off his shoes and quiver before jumping off the small ledge and into the warm, deep water.

"And I thought Dothraki boys couldn't swim!" Aranyos laughed as he swam over to her in a few strokes, standing next to her. Drogo smirked and splashed her.

"I'll admit its hard to swim in leather pants, but I didn't want to _upset_ you."

Suddenly, the princess was gone. He only had a moment to panic before something grabbed his ankle and he fell backward underwater. Aranyos surfaced, laughing and coughing up water at the same time. As Drogo broke the surface, he saw her glaring playfully at him. He gave up trying to act in the 'Dothraki way' and lunged at her. Aranyos screamed as he picked her up bridal style and threw her back in the water. Unfortunately, she grabbed him at the last minute and they both fell face first into the clear water.

* * *

><p>Standing in the shallows as the sun set, Aranyos and Drogo were gasping for air, still laughing but completely exhausted. The girl put up a good fight, and swam like a fish. Looking at her, Aranyos' white slip clung to her legs while the top corset stayed perfectly in place, her hair sticking to her shoulders and back. She was gorgeous. "I'm gonna tell them that I fell in and you saved me," she told him matter-of-factly, ringing the water out of her hair. Drogo smirked, that was exactly what he was going to ask, <em>what are you telling your father? <em>

"Why did you fall in?" He asked innocently, she glared at him- her bright golden eyes twinkling with mirth and took a step closer to him.

"I don't know! You saw the whole thing, why _did_ I fall in?" Aranyos retorted. Drogo laughed quietly and closed the space between them so much that she had to look up at him. For the first time since he could remember, Drogo smiled without reservation, and she was amazed how different he looked when he did so; a top row of perfectly straight white teeth contrasted with his dark skin and his green eyes lit up. Aranyos sighed and closed her eyes as he kissed her. Drogo felt her hands on his chest applying consistent pressure against him and frowned, letting his lips linger just above hers. She stared up at him with an unreadable expression- but allowed herself to be grabbed around the back and pulled close once again. Drogo could feel when she gave up her inner conflict because she stood on her tip toes and the hands that were pushing against him snaked up around his neck.

"_That's _why I fell in?!" Aranyos laughed and pulled away, walking out of the shallow water to retrieve her skirt and top. The night had gotten cold and Drogo followed her out of the water with a victorious smile.

"Something like that," he replied quickly, fastening his quiver over his back and rounding up the horses who had been grazing nearby. Aranyos watched him walk away as she arranged her top over her wet bodice.

"Maybe there's more to you than I thought, Pretty Boy," The princess mused, seeing Drogo walking back empty handed. Aranyos frowned, the horses could be long gone and they wouldn't be able to search for them until morning! Her worries were cut short when Athdikar and Arabejla came racing from the forest, passing Drogo and galloping toward her down the beach. He stopped, looking back at the forest, Drogo swore he heard another horse in the brush. The sound vanished quickly and he assumed it was only a startled deer or other animal, continuing to walk back to Aranyos and the horses.

* * *

><p>"Well Aranyos, I was expecting a little more from you. Falling for a pair of dark broad shoulders? How cliché," Zigere spat before spurring his palomino back toward Borok Haza under the cover of darkness.<p>

**A/N: So when I say "apartments" I feel that the castle would have bed chambers with a bedroom, a bathroom and a parlor (with a fireplace and couches) all to themselves. So imagine like mini houses for each of them.**


	4. Weapons and Grass Ropes

**Chapter 4**

**Weapons and Grass Ropes**

Walking onto the lush green field, Drogo could see all of the warriors training. Only not archery, they were fighting hand to hand; he smiled, _this_ is what he was good at. Aranyos looked at him as he stared toward the fast approaching men.

"Some of the boys asked if you could teach them Dothraki fighting techniques, think you're good enough?" She challenged. Drogo gave her an impossible look, as if she were a fool to ask that sort of question.

"Well you did almost get killed by a 16 year old _princess_, sorry if my faith in you isn't 100%!" Aranyos countered playfully, grabbing an arrow from her quiver and holding it close to him- reminding him of being stabbed a few days earlier.

"She wasn't just _any_ princess. And she snuck up on me," Drogo defended, a frown darkening his face, but resolved to a flirtatious smirk. Her eyes narrowed.

"Snuck up on you? You grabbed me!" Aranyos exclaimed. Drogo didn't have time to respond, they had reached the men- who had stopped fighting to look at Drogo and pay respects to the princess.

"Drogo would be honored to teach you the ways of Dothraki hand to hand combat," Aranyos told them happily, in a veiled noble way. Drogo looked at each of the men, they couldn't be much older than he.

"We are honored to learn from you, I am Vado" one tall, attractive boy nodded toward Drogo. He was surprised that he could understand the warrior- his Csango lessons had already been paying off.

"This task does not require many words, fortunately for me," Drogo replied in Csango, ignoring Aranyos' stupid grin. Vado smiled and led him to the armory.

"What's it like to be a Dothraki?" Vado finally asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them as Drogo looked through his weapons. He looked up at the blonde warrior-

"much harder than being a Magyar." He said indifferently, gliding a stone over his arakh- he was happy to have brought a wide array of weapons with him.

"How?" Vado asked wearily, sitting down on the bench next to Drogo and beginning to polish his own sword. Drogo smirked,

"more fighting, more violence, more death- everywhere."

Vado digested the information he was just given; the stories about the Dothraki hoard were true, they fought and killed each other for the littlest things. Sex and blood were a staple in their lives.

"Well at least the stories were right," he commented, trying to not offend Drogo. For how calm the Dothraki boy seemed, Vado did not want to push his luck. Drogo smiled slightly, this boy had no idea what he was talking about; hearing stories and living it were 2 totally different things.

"Wouldn't want to disappoint," Drogo replied, he was beginning to like this boy- Vado.

* * *

><p>Aranyos couldn't stay to watch the boys training, Zigere loomed across the field back by the stables. She rolled her eyes, unexcited about talking to him; but walked over, seeing as he was waiting for her.<p>

"Princess," the warrior acknowledged as Aranyos came up to him. He stood with his hands on his hips, a smug smile on his face. The princess eyed him suspiciously- uncomforted by the warrior's air of superiority,

"What do you want Zigere?"

"Its what I _don't_ want," he grinned smugly. He was toying with her, and Aranyos didn't have the patience that day for it.

"Just tell me what you want, I am not up for this today," she replied hotly, mirroring his arrogant stance.

"You are not to see the Dothraki boy anymore," Zigere said flatly, all hints of joking gone from his voice.

"You can't do that. You have no reason to belie-" she was cut off.

"I saw you with him at the lake Aranyos," the warrior interjected. She instantly deflated, but tried to mask her horror.

"Nothing happened Zigere," Aranyos affirmed, blushing furiously. The warrior smirked at her discomfort.

"Don't make me tell your father," Zigere pleaded sweetly, "I _don't_ want the Dothraki boy's head on a spit, I just don't want _you_ on him either."

"Like Hell you don't. Some day you will be able to tell me what to do, but not today," Aranyos replied angrily, unable to believe he was threatening her.

"And when that day comes, I don't want you spoiled for me," he explained, getting into her personal space and ignoring her words completely. He knew she would obey. Zigere then turned and walked away arrogantly.

Aranyos turned and looked back across the field, seeing Vado holding one of the Dothraki weapons. Drogo stood next to him, explaining something. Vado nodded and swung the weapon as instructed. The princess couldn't help but smile as all the warriors watched with rapt interest. She headed back to the palace once she felt Drogo's eyes on her; it was for his own safety, Zigere wouldn't hesitate to get him hurt if he thought they were together. Of course Zigere couldn't have seen when she stabbed Drogo with an arrow, or when he grabbed her, or even earlier that day! He _had_ to see the one moment they had acted out of character. Because that was what it was, they had gotten caught up in the moment; Drogo didn't really harbor any feelings for her, and she certainly did not. They were friends, and even that was pushing it. Aranyos sighed, cursing the gods for their horrible timing; she was going to have to avoid him for his own good.

Aranyos stopped for a moment, Zigere had long gone and she turned back to the field; her brain hatching an idea. She had to _look_ like she was avoiding him. Zigere would never have to know.

Completely pleased with herself, Aranyos walked back to the palace in search of Gyongi and Csilla.

* * *

><p>"Hurts your shoulder after a few blows," Vado commented to another boy who was trying to fight with the arakh. Drogo smirked- walking up to them,<p>

"gets you a strong arm."

"A _stronger_ arm!" The other boy, Tawak joked, flexing his arms. Vado laughed, comparing Tawak's relatively toned arms to Drogo's bulky tan ones.

"A _stronger_ one," Drogo agreed, taking the arakh and putting it back with his other weapons.

"We're going riding later, do you want to come? I heard that you tamed the bay stallion. I gotta see this," Tawak told him.

"Let's go to the mess hall. I'm starving," Vado complained. For the first time, Drogo realized it was dark outside; and that he was hungry. He nodded and the three set off toward the barracks for dinner.

* * *

><p>"Gyongi! Csilla!" Aranyos yelled in the hall of the palace as she ran toward the stairs. The girls met her with worried faces on the second floor.<p>

"Come into my room. I need you both to do something for me," Aranyos whispered as she led the way into her massive chamber. Csilla plopped down on the light pink couch and Gyongi stood with her arms crossed.

"What is it that's so important that you had to scream for us from downstairs?" Gyongi asked incredulously.

"I need you both to take a ride, every night after dinner," Aranyos told them. Gyongi's face didn't change and Csilla looked slightly confused.

"We do take rides though, everyday," the shorter girl replied.

"Take it at night, and take Arabejla with you…okay?" Aranyos asked desperately.

"I'm going to guess this has to do with the Dothraki boy, am I right?" Gyongi asked flatly, a smirk covering her face. Aranyos blushed slightly, but her overriding anger at Zigere allowed her to stifle it.

"More with Zigere," she replied bitterly, both girls gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Just…will you promise me?" Aranyos asked almost desperately.

"You're not going to explain why?" Gyongi asked, obviously annoyed. Aranyos ushered both of them to the door. Her sister sighed in exasperation but nodded on her way out. Csilla grabbed Aranyos' arm and pushed back in.

"Tell me."

"I- I- I wish I could, Csilla I really do. But I don't want to get you in trouble," the princess explained truthfully.

"If something bad happens, you will tell me though? If you need help or something?" Csilla pleaded, running a hand through her long sandy blonde curls. Aranyos smiled and hugged her long time friend.

"Of course. But this is a problem I have to work out alone, hopefully it will be over in a few weeks," she confided. Csilla nodded and left the room. Aranyos was alone with her unsettling thoughts for the rest of the night.

* * *

><p>"So you're saying that you roped a wild horse…with a grass lasso?" Drogo asked Tawak, not believing one word the warrior was saying. Vado burst into laughter.<p>

"Must have been _some_ grass! Don't let him fool you, it took him weeks to catch that pony!" Vado joked, dismounting the pinto he was riding. Drogo laughed.

"It was! And it only took _1_ week to catch him!" Tawak defended as they led the horses back into the stable for the night. Walking down the isle, Drogo noticed Arabejla's stall door was slightly ajar. Stripping Athdikar's tack and turning him loose back in his stall, Drogo walked back down the dimly lit isle to Arabejla.

"So how was fighting?" Aranyos asked from the shadowy corner of the stall. Drogo strained to see her in the low light. Arabejla sat beside her, that was the only reason he knew where she was.

"The men are weak, my weapons are useless to them," Drogo replied, but his words were not said disdainfully, just a statement of fact. She looked up at him as he stood in the stall door way.

"But…?" Aranyos asked, waiting for him to say something positive about the group of skilled warriors. Drogo smirked and sighed in defeat.

"They are quick to learn and are making progress." Aranyos laughed, standing up. Arabejla shifted unhappily, upset that the princess moved away from her.

"I heard you speaking Csango, you're practically fluent," she joked, but was secretly proud of how quickly Drogo had picked it up from their brief lessons.

"The words are much like Dothraki, but I still have much to learn if my teacher wants to teach me," Drogo gave her a lopsided smirk and Aranyos rolled her eyes.

She was about to speak when female voices intruded into the otherwise quiet barn. Csilla and Gyongi walked in, in the middle of an intense conversation. They both stopped when they saw Drogo and Aranyos standing near the crème mare's stall.

"Csilla, Gyongi. You wanted to meet Drogo right?" The princess asked sweetly, panicking about being caught by the two girls she had sent to keep her secret. Gyongi swallowed her fear of the huge warrior and strode over to meet them. Csilla inched slowly over behind her.

"We were just going to go for a ride. Do you still want us to bring Arabejla?" Gyongi asked, trying to ignore Drogo's dark stare. Aranyos made a face at her sister, hoping it would convey 'SHUT THE FUCK UP!.' Gyongi smirked at her baby sister before turning and leaving, "come on Csilla, lets go get the horses. We'll bring Arabejla too so you can do whatever you guys want."

Aranyos was furious at her sister, glaring daggers into her back as she walked down the isle with Csilla. She didn't want to face Drogo now, knowing that he would want an explanation.

"Anything?" Drogo finally asked, once it was obvious the princess wasn't going to willingly explain the situation. Aranyos turned to him, relieved that he didn't seem angry. She shook her head.

"No."

Drogo nodded and headed out of the stable, for a moment Aranyos thought he _was _actually angry with her. Then he stopped, waiting for her to catch up.

The princess breathed a sigh of relief and ran after him, walking together to the palace.

**A/N: As of 8/25 I revamped this chapter cuz I felt like it was a minor fail and wasn't as in-depth about situations as I thought it could be. Hope this helped a little! R & R :)**


	5. Rule Number One

**A/N: Wow. I actually got a few reviews! Cool! Thanks guys :) Here's some fluff.**

**Chapter 5**

**Rule Number One**

"Is there anything specific you want to learn?" Aranyos asked, sitting down on her couch by the fireplace. Drogo stood, looking out the window into the night sky.

"Anything you think is important," he replied vaguely. The princess sighed, he had been doing this since they walked back from the stable. Fixing her dark blue gown, Aranyos was determined not to be deterred by his attitude.

"Then we will just talk. You can't get good at Csango without speaking it," she told him confidently.

"What will we talk about?" Drogo asked flatly, still not giving her any eye-contact.

"That was my sister in the stable, along with my best friend. Do you have any siblings?" Aranyos asked slowly in Csango, smiling at him.

Drogo finally looked at her, exasperated, "I almost had one."

The princess studied his face for a moment, he was speaking in all seriousness. She was again reminded of the huge difference in culture they shared. "Drogo, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. You haven't done anything wrong," he assured her calmly, his gaze returning to the window. Drogo remembered the night he had awoken to his mother's sobs, a pool of blood beneath her on the bed. That was the last time he had seen her.

"Gyongi is your sister, right?" He asked lightheartedly, obviously changing the subject. Aranyos laughed, but didn't really want to talk about what had happened in the stable an hour ago.

"How can you tell?" She asked sarcastically, wishing her sister had made a better first impression. Drogo gave her a quick smile.

"Your eyes are the same." Aranyos averted her eyes, it was happening again. She knew she shouldn't be this close to him, but she couldn't help it.

"Unfortunately that's not the only thing we share. We both are as stubborn as mules!" The princess joked, knowing it was the truth.

"It suits you," Drogo commented, moving from the window closer to the stone fireplace.

"Oh really? My mother always told me it was an undesirable trait for a woman to have, but my father used to be very supportive," Aranyos explained, grinning as she moved over to give him room on the couch.

"But now he's not?" Drogo asked, sitting down. They managed to keep an awkward distance between them.

The princess snorted angrily, "not since I am of marrying age." He eyed her, not knowing what to say; it seemed like this was a deeper problem than she was letting on, but Drogo really wasn't one to pry.

Aranyos wished she had never said that. Now she felt as if she owed him a deeper explanation, and she couldn't do that. She didn't know how he would react, or if he would he even care but if he did, things would become infinitely more complicated. Besides, Drogo had it hard enough, Zigere was giving him a hard time, he was learning a new language, new customs and making new friends, he didn't need her family problems too.

"Well you speak Csango like a Magyar prince!" Aranyos exclaimed happily, jumping up. She decided she had to change the subject. If he looked at her again with his big green eyes, she was going to end up sitting on his lap; telling him all of her problems.

Walking over to the dark oak table near the door, Aranyos grabbed the arakh; pointing it back at Drogo with a dark glare, "teach me to be a Dothraki warrior!"

Walking around the short, wooden table in front of the couch, Drogo stood a few paces away from the princess. "You need a braid."

Aranyos stopped her façade, holding the weapon out to him, "here, hold my arakh," quickly pulling her hair to one side, the princess gave herself a braid down her back.

Drogo laughed, "rule number one. Never ask your enemy to hold your weapon."

Frowning cutely, Aranyos crossed her arms, "you're not my enemy, are you?"

He sighed, smiling as he handed the arakh back to her, "rule number two, hold it the other way."

Walking behind her, Drogo held her hand and repositioned it in the correct grip. Aranyos tried futilely to focus on the weapon in front of her, and not the warrior behind her; who could, no doubt feel her pounding heart. She heard him whisper in her ear, "and rule three. Don't let anyone get this close to you."

Aranyos turned her head toward him, their faces inches apart, "why not?"

"Because they could distract you from the battle," Drogo replied, unmoving.

"And what if I'm not_ in _a battle?" Aranyos whispered. He smirked wickedly.

"Then I would suggest you drop the arakh."

Carefully, she put the weapon on the ground before allowing herself to be grabbed and kissed.

The kiss was gentle and non-aggressive; not like the ones she had read in books when she was younger and used to sneak them from the library. But it still managed to make her spine tingle for the brief moment she allowed it. Aranyos' eyes drifted closed and she felt Drogo's long skinny fingers cup her face. Before her reason kicked in, she gripped the front of his rough shirt for balance as she stood on her tip toes to reach him better; after it did, she pushed him away. It took her a minute to gather the courage to look Drogo in the eyes again; once she did, Aranyos wished she hadn't- they were full of confusion. His hands didn't leave her face and she put hers over his.

"I won't let you get in the middle of this, we can't see each other anymore. I won't let you get killed because I refuse to accept the inevitable," Aranyos explained sadly, trying not to let her voice crack. She couldn't cry. Not in front of him.

"What if I want to get in the middle?" Drogo didn't know exactly what she was talking about, but based on what Aranyos had said he was beginning to get a pretty good idea.

"It isn't your choice."

As soon as Drogo left, she broke down crying; Aranyos heard his footsteps grow fainter as he walked down the hall. She imagined herself running after him and begging his forgiveness, she hadn't meant it, she was just scared. Then she would tell him everything; and they would run off together. But Aranyos knew that wasn't how things were going to happen.

* * *

><p>It was almost noon the next day and the group of warriors had been riding for an hour.<p>

"I heard that Dothraki warriors can shoot an arrow just as accurately on a horse as on the ground. Is that true?" Tawak asked, noticing Drogo had been silent the whole trip. Vado waited for the answer as they walked along the path in the forest.

"A Dothraki _boy_ can shoot an arrow off a horse, he doesn't have to be a warrior," Drogo replied flatly. The other warriors gaped at him and Vado laughed, riding up next to Drogo.

"What is it?"

Drogo looked at the lean boy riding next to him, "what do you mean?"

"You haven't said anything since we left. Just riding up front, glaring at the path," Vado explained.

"Nothing. Bring your horses up here!" Drogo shouted to the rest of the boys following them. There was a clearing up ahead where they were going to practice archery. Because he wasn't the shouting type, the boys quickly obeyed and lined up across the field. Vado and Drogo sat facing them on horses.

"Now you see that tree?" The Dothraki warrior asked, pointing to the large pine tree on the other side of the clearing, "hit it."

There was a low rumble throughout the warriors, they all though that was simple. Vado smirked at Drogo, knowing it couldn't be as easy as that.

"While galloping at it."

* * *

><p>The warriors had gotten progressively better as the day went on, most of them hitting the middle of the tree, and Drogo was proud of their progress. He had been able to put the previous night's events out of his mind<em>. Mother of the Mountains! Why did this girl have to be so damn complicated? Why couldn't she be one of the quiet, obedient girls he had grown up with? Why did he have to find the one brave, strong, skilled, obnoxiously crafty girl? <em>Then it dawned on him, those reasons were what attracted him to her. Drogo just wished Aranyos would tell him what she meant by '_I won't let you get in the middle of this, we can't see each other anymore. I won't let you get killed because I refuse to accept the inevitable._' Sitting in the edge of the forest, he heard the distinct sound of an arrow being shot that broke his train of thought.

"Vado," Drogo called, the other boy rode up to him from the middle of the field, "gather the warriors."

Vado galloped off and soon they were all together in a herd by the edge of the clearing, "you all have made great strides today, but it time we return home." Drogo explained, there was a roar of satisfaction throughout the warriors. Drogo heard it again, the shot was closer and the rustling of horses were audible too. He urged Athdikar into the forest, leaving the Magyar warriors behind.

Not too much time had passed when Drogo found what was responsible for the shots; a Dothraki hunting party. There weren't more than 20 blood riders, but Drogo knew that numbers didn't matter, Khal Drakkar could kill 20 men by himself. He snuck closer to them, staying out of sight, hoping to catch a glimpse of a familiar face; he saw none.

* * *

><p>"Its just a hunting party! Why are we watching them?" Rakharo asked quietly from behind the tree. They had been watching the hunting party for over an hour. Rathe sighed and turned to the other warrior.<p>

"Khal Drakkar wants us to keep an eye on them to make sure they don't find the hoard, because we would need to be prepared for an attack. Remember?" Rathe asked, going back to watching the enemy blood riders. Suddenly, a small movement in the tree line across from them caught Rakharo's attention and he signaled for Rathe to follow him.

Once the two got close enough, they saw it was a man on a dark bay horse, who seemed to be watching the Dothraki intently. Rathe strung his bow and Rakharo galloped close to the man.

"Don't move!" Rakharo whispered forcefully, both him and the other man turned back to the clearing to see if they had been noticed; fortunately they had not.

"Rakharo?" Rathe lowered his weapon once he was close enough to see the man up close. It was Drogo.

"Drogo? We thought you were dead! Mago has been telling everyone you ran away- where's the horse from?" Rakharo asked, sidetracked from his rant. Drogo sighed.

"I can't explain, who are they?" Drogo asked, gesturing to the unknown blood riders.

"They are Khal Iyro's. We were sent to watch them, but thank the Mother of the Mountains! We can go back now that we found you!" Rathe exclaimed. Drogo was overcome with relief, but was torn; he couldn't leave Borok Haza now… could he? He heard a horse coming from behind them.

"Drogo! What happened?" Vado asked, stopping his horse next to Athdikar and ignoring the other two boys.

"These warriors are from another hoard, get the men and race back to Borok Haza. Do not wait for me," Drogo instructed calmly, meeting the Magyar's eyes. The other boy looked at him as if he was about to disagree, but turned and galloped off.

"Was that a…" Rakharo asked, shocked. He watched Drogo speak to the fair skinned, blonde haired boy in another language and knew instantly that that was a Magyar.

"That is Vado, he is blood of my blood," Drogo explained touching his chest along with using the old phrase. Rathe nodded, "you will not tell anyone."

Both Rakharo and Rathe nodded respectfully, Drogo had changed in the weeks he was gone. He commanded respect and his old friends gave it to him.

"What are we to do about that?" Rathe asked, cringing. Looking at the clearing, all the blood riders were looking at them.

"What do blood riders do best?" Drogo responded with a wicked grin. Drawing their bows, they began firing at the oncoming warriors. Once they were too close, Rathe, Rakharo and Drogo drew their arakhs and galloped forward to meet them.

Drogo fully expected to die. No matter how many men he sliced through, more still came. It was a miracle that the three were still standing. He tried to stay focused on the battle, but the distinct sound of hooves became louder and louder. Drogo was going to punch Vado in the face. A lot.

But at least Drogo would now live to be able to do so. All the Magyar warriors appeared in the tree line, and the three made it out just before the onslaught of arrows. It was over.

"I thought I told you to go back to the village?" Drogo asked, smiling as he pulled Athdikar up to the Magyar's pinto. Vado laughed.

"We overruled you."

"I'm glad you did," Drogo was about to introduce Vado to Rakharo and Rathe when he found Rathe lying on the ground, Rakharo beside him. Walking up to them, he saw the large gash in the blood rider's side and the dark blood stain consuming his chest.

Wrapping his rough tunic around the wound to stop the bleeding, Drogo turned to Rakharo, "take Athdikar, get him back to the hoard."

Rakharo was about to argue, when he realized Rathe's horse was nowhere in sight. Together they got him up on the stallion.

"What better way to die, huh?" Rathe joked weakly. Drogo smiled briefly as Rakharo mounted his horse. He put his hand on Rathe's leg.

"I will see you again, blood of my blood. Whether it is here, or in the nightlands." Rathe nodded and the two set off.

"Here Drogo," one of the younger Magyar warriors came up to him and handed him the reins to his palomino. Drogo was about to reject to gift, but the look on the warrior's face made him accept the token. He nodded a 'thanks' to the boy before riding to find Vado and lead the warriors back home.

* * *

><p>Rakharo and Rathe made it back to the hoard by nightfall and Rakharo went to go find the khal as soon as Rathe was carried into the healer's hut.<p>

"Khal Iyro's hoard must be nearby, their hunting party was right in the forest past the mountains," Rakharo explained once he was inside the hut. Drakkar nodded thoughtfully.

"We will be ready for them, did they see you? How was Rathe wounded?" The khal asked, standing from his seat and walking toward the young warrior.

"They saw us and attacked, Khal Drakkar," Rakharo explained, trying to keep his promise to Drogo.

"The two of you killed an _entire_ hunting party?" Drakkar asked incredulously. He knew the blood rider would tell him, it was just a matter of time.

"Well no. Drogo was there." Rakharo admitted. He silently apologized to his friend, but he had to tell the khal what had happened.

"Ahh, so young Drogo lives. He was always strong. How does he fare?" The khal asked happily. He was sure Drogo was making his way, that boy was meant to be a warrior.

"Very well, he tamed the bay stallion who brought Rathe here," Rakharo told him proudly, remembering seeing how the Magyar warriors had looked to him for guidance.

"Oh so the _three_ of you took down all the blood riders?" Drakkar asked sarcastically. Rakharo was impressing him, his devotion to his friend was amazing.

"We were aided by another tribe, that Drogo has been staying with. We asked if he was going to come back with us and he returned with the Magy-" Rakharo stopped himself, but it was too late. The khal gave a laugh, remembering the Magyar healer's daughter he had met so many moons ago.

"It is alright, blood of my blood. I have met the Magyar before, if that is the path the Mother of the Mountains has for him, there is nothing we can do."

Rakharo exited the tent relieved, it didn't seem like Khal Drakkar was going to wage war on Drogo or anything- he actually seemed happy that Drogo ended up with them. As he walked back to his hut, he saw a man chasing after a horse.

"Get him! He jumped the fence!" The man yelled as he ran after the bay horse. Rakharo smiled as Athdikar tore down the path back to the forest; because he knew exactly where the stallion was going.

**A/N: Here is my favorite chapter! Sorry the first chapters were kind of iffy…but I may go back through them and revamp. Bear with me! It will get better. I need comments: who wants fluff? Who wants lemon? Who wants Conan the Barbarian style blood and gore? Tell me what you think :)**


	6. The White Mare and the Wild Dogs

**A/N: OMG sorry for the long wait! Forgive me? **

**Chapter 6**

_**The White Mare and the Wild Dogs**_

She had just gotten into the stable when Aranyos heard the clattering of hooves outside. Quickly handing Arabejla off to one of the trusted grooms, she rushed back out the doorway into the darkness. The sight the princess met caused her heart to stop; Athdikar stood, nostrils flaring on the cobblestones. He was riderless, Aranyos realized. What happened? Had the stallion thrown him again? She snickered, instantly reliving the moment when Athdikar rolled on top of Drogo; that had been so long ago. Aranyos crept up to the bay stallion, her hand out in a calming gesture. He eyed her cautiously but allowed the princess to grab hold of the bridle as she stroked his sweaty neck.

"Shhh," Aranyos cooed. She froze, seeing the dark red stains on the saddle. The princess's humorous mood died instantly. Where _was_ Drogo? She hadn't seen him since the night before…Aranyos pushed her thoughts aside, _there's nothing I could do. It was for his own safety. _Looking back at the nervous horse in front of her, Aranyos walked him to his stall and pulled his tack. She studied the dark brown saddle closer as a groom began to work the blood out of Athdikar's matted fur, there was quiet a bit of red staining the rug as well- some still wet. The princess became queezy, taking a deep breath her mind instantly went to the worst case scenario; Drogo was laying out in the forest somewhere bleeding to death. Thinking back, she hadn't seen Vado or Tawak all day; they would most certainly tell her if something had happened to him, wouldn't they? Aranyos couldn't just go back to the castle and go to bed! She had to do something.

* * *

><p>Aranyos knew where they had gone to train, and began her search there. Arabejla shied from the strange sounds in the darkness and the princess cooed in her ear as they approached the open field. Wild dogs barked and howled nearby and Aranyos stared out into the treeline. <em>Those dogs are close. What brought them so close to the city?<em> Having grown up close to the wild dogs, she found it strange how obvious they were being. _Must have been one good kill…_

"Oh gods," Aranyos swore, horrified. She pulled the mare up and galloped into the forest toward the dogs.

The pack had been extremely close, she found them at the bottom of a steep hill and in the inky blackness the princess could see they were eating a few very large things. She contemplated racing Arabejla down the hill, hoping it would be enough to scare the dogs away so she could see what or _who _the things were, but there were too many. At least 5, and she couldn't see very well. After the initial shock wore off, the dogs would be back, ready to fight to the death for their meal. They would both be mauled and eaten, assuming Arabejla could canter down the hill without falling and killing them first. She was torn, what if Drogo was down there? Or other Magyar warriors who he had been teaching?

"Drogo?" Aranyos yelled to the blackness, the dogs pricked their ears, but ignored her, "Vado? Is anyone down there?"

There was an eerie silence, broken only by occasional yelps. Whoever they were, they were with the gods now. The sound of hooves grew near, at least 3 horses were galloping toward her. Aranyos spurred the mare back through the woods, not wanting to be easily spotted in the clearing. No matter how fast Arabejla galloped, nimbly leaping branches and maneuvering obstacles, the horses drew closer. They had to be able to see her by now, the drumming was almost deafening; the first noise she heard from one of the riders- a quick exhale of breath, was also the last.

* * *

><p>Drogo stood silently while Vado told the story of their death-defying feat to Chief Arpad, trying not to crack a smile. He certainly didn't remember being so epic when it had actually happened. His mind wandered to Rathe, hoping his friend had not moved on to the nightlands yet. Had Rakharo told the horde about the Magyar? Drogo trusted him to keep the secret, but he also trusted Khal Drakkar to see through any ruse the young warrior had come up with. What would happen if the Dothraki tried to attack the city? Drogo hoped the city was remote enough that they could not find it, but what about Khal Iyro's horde? They killed many blood riders that day, and no doubt the khal would seek revenge.<p>

"Drogo, is what young Vado has told me true? You were going to try single-handedly to kill all of the Dothraki in the forest?" Arpad's voice broke through Drogo's thoughts. He turned to the old man in front of him, trying to ignore Zigere looming behind him.

"They were not my horde, they were an enemy horde who had spotted me because of a careless mistake. I could not risk the lives of all the Magyar soldiers or people by having them be discovered," Drogo explained, hoping he sounded sensible. The king smiled wisely, nodding his head slowly.

"Spoken like a true leader, this seems to have been an unfortunate accident, no fault of your own. You acted out to protect the Magyar people, and for that I thank you."

"Thank him! The horde will be after us, wanting the blood to be repaid ten-fold! They will slaughter the men, burn down the houses…" Zigere's rant ceased as Arpad lifted his hand to silence him.

"This is true, Khal Iyro's horde is large, but not the largest of the Dothraki. I have no reason to suspect that they know where the city is," Drogo affirmed. Zigere snorted angrily.

"He probably told them where we are! He is one of them! I will not stand to see my people murdered, the women raped, the children sold as slaves in the Free Cities…" Zigere began passionately. As much as Drogo disliked the older warrior, he spoke from the heart, he truly cared about his people and he respected that.

Arpad nodded in acceptance but interjected, "Zigere, you are a skilled warrior and horseman, and it brings me great comfort to know you will be king after I am gone, but we cannot blame Drogo, he has done nothing but try to learn our culture, he speaks Csango like a native!"

Drogo knew he was supposed to say something, Vado was nudging his arm and talking to him, but all he could hear were Arpad's words replaying in his head, _…you will be king after I am gone._ Everything was clear to Drogo. Everything Aranyos had said, everything she had done…she was engaged to Zigere. He couldn't even look at the older warrior again, he felt so stupid.

"We still have to put away the horses, your highness, please excuse us," Vado said respectfully before grabbing Drogo's arm and pulling him out of the great hall.

"What the _Hell_ happened?" Vado whispered as they down the dirt path to the stable. Drogo was silent, his jaw clenched tightly. Vado sighed, rolling his eyes.

* * *

><p>"Where <em>is <em>Aranyos?" Gyongi asked, sitting on the pink couch andbrushing her long dark blonde hair. Csilla cringed, she had been asking herself that for hours. The older girl watched as her sister's best friend wrung her hands uncomfortably.

"You have seen her…haven't you?"

"Ummm yes. I saw her at lunch and then we went to the dressmaker."

Gyongi raised her left eyebrow, "So you have not seen her in seven hours?"

"No. She's probably with Zigere or riding or that Dothraki boy…Drogo," Csilla offered weakly. The older girl rose to her feet, arranging her grey-blue dress.

"She had better not be with that savage this long past sunset…or I will personally walk her down the aisle to see her marry Zigere!" Gyongi fumed. Stupid, stubborn Aranyos, she had to become a rebel…she was lucky a warrior like Zigere wanted to marry her anymore! If she wasn't a princess, she would have quite the reputation. He could marry her; she was pretty, gentle, obedient! Everything a woman was supposed to be, but no. He wanted to marry the chief's favorite daughter.

"She doesn't want to marry Zigere," Csilla whispered, not meeting the princess's eyes. Gyongi was silent, she knew that already. There was nothing to be done.

"How long do we give Aranyos before we go look for her?" Gyongi asked, changing the subject. Csilla looked at her worriedly.

* * *

><p>Aranyos lay on the dirt floor of the hut, her bright blonde hair a tangled mess splayed out around her head. She didn't want to move, and she hadn't since the Dothraki warrior who had come to "interrogate" her, left. He had asked her who she was, where she came from and why she was out in the forest; feigning innocence, Aranyos spoke in Csango, <em>she didn't know what they were saying! <em>She had been struck across the face and told not to lie to him. Apparently he had heard her speaking in Dothraki when she called out to Drogo. As time passed, the warrior grew more and more frustrated with Aranyos' lack of information, and became increasingly violent. After what seemed like hours, he eyed her angrily, storming out of the hut. He had never returned.

* * *

><p>"Khal Iyro, I found something where the blood riders were slain," the warrior told Iyro, who sat on a makeshift throne near the fire pit. The black haired khal nodded, motioning for the bloodrider to continue.<p>

"I think she's Magyar."

* * *

><p>Drogo stood outside the stall door, watching Athdikar sleep. He had been more than surprised to see the bay stallion in the stable, and had no idea how he got back from the Dothraki camp. He turned to walk back to the tack room, bringing Athdikar's bridle that was still hung on the door with him. Passing Arabejla's stall, he was concerned when no dainty, white head popped out to greet him. Drogo peered into the darkened stall, she was not there. Hanging up the bridle on a peg, Aranyos' saddle and the mare's bridle were missing as well. A sinking feeling began in the pit of his stomach.<p>

"Do you think he will live?" Vado asked as he put some brushes back in their boxes, mistaking Drogo's grim mood.

"I think we have the best healer in the Westros, if she cannot save him, he was destined for the nightlands," Drogo responded calmly. The other boy was about to pester him about the reason for his foul mood, but two girls appeared in the light of the stable.

"Princess Gyongi, Csilla, what brings you out here this time of night?" Vado inquired politely, Drogo turned to look at the girls. Gyongi glared at him for a moment, Csilla looked nervous.

"Have you seen Aranyos?

* * *

><p>As the hut began to lighten, the princess choked back dry sobs. Her golden eyes were tinted red; she could shed no more tears.<p>

**A/N: Did you like it? Haha I hope so! I actually have a plan for this story and it will be finished before I work on **_**If Things Were Different **_**or **_**Blood Ties.**_** I would review if I were you…I will write faster ;) I promise not to ditch you guys!**

**NOTE: Horses are almost never WHITE. A white horse would have pink eyes and skin, making it albino. Most "white" horses are grey, they have black skin and brown eyes. Arabejla is actually cremello. A very light golden color that comes from the word "cream". Just incase there are any horse lovers reading this!**

$10 to the first person who knows why the chapter is named what it is…or at least an honorable mention.


	7. Thou Art Banish'ed

**A/N: this chapter begins the night where Drogo, Vado, Csilla and Gyongi are in the stable together…just to clear that up.**

**Chapter 7**

_**Thou Art Banish'ed**_

"We must tell Chief Arpad," Vado concluded sadly. Standing in the aisle of the stable, all four of them decided something was wrong.

"Wait," Drogo paused, suddenly remembering the stablehand, "Mateo!"

The young, reddish blonde poked his head out of the tack room and walked over to the group quickly, "Something I can help you with?"

"Did you see Princess Aranyos leave today?" Drogo asked, trying his best to not take his anger out on the innocent young man in front of him.

"Oh, the princess? Yes, she seemed to be in a hurry. She asked me to tack her mare and then they bolted off before I could inquire as to her state," Mateo explained, looking from one teen to another, he frowned.

"What state?" Csilla asked, the concern obvious in her voice.

Mateo shook his head, as if it had all become clear to him. Cringing, the stablehand looked toward the tall Dothraki standing next to him. "Your stallion came running into the stable, the princess seemed horribly concerned with the blood she found on the saddle and blanket. She stripped his tack and left minutes afterward."

"Why wouldn't she go find father then? To ask what had happened? Or another soldier to ask him?" Gyongi thought out loud, her demeanor changing from mildly annoyed to worried.

Drogo couldn't believe it. The only reason Aranyos would have not asked the chief or a soldier was because she had thought he was in imminent _danger_. She thought he had fallen and was somewhere bleeding out. Aranyos went out to go rescue him.

"I don't know, she is usually sensible…" Csilla trailed off when she received a pointed look from the princess, "_when it really matters_! What if something really bad happened to her?"

Vado inched closer to Drogo, who was caught up in his own thoughts. "Do you think she was stupid enough to wander out in the forest at night?" He whispered. Drogo's eyes narrowed, his emotions snapped and he turned to the light blonde warrior next to him.

"Her going out had nothing to do with stupidity! She had to make a quick decision and she just made the wrong one!" Drogo yelled, surprising everyone including Athdikar who had been listening to the conversation near his stall. Csilla actually stepped back from him, marveling at how anger changed him from "Drogo" to Dothraki warrior.

Gyongi looked him over from a safe distance, nodding in understanding. This was why her little sister didn't want to get married to Zigere. And, Gyongi realized, why she had braved the woods at night.

"We need to tell your father." Csilla agreed whole-heartedly. Drogo and Vado watched, helplessly, as the two girls walked back out the door and disappeared into the night.

"Now what?" Vado asked quietly after a long moment. Drogo sighed.

"We follow them."

* * *

><p>"What do you mean she's gone?" Arpad shouted, unable to believe what he was hearing from his elder daughter. Gyongi nodded gravely, cementing what she had just said into his mind. <em>What were they going to do?<em>

"All we know is that she and her horse tore off just after sundown, according to the stablehand she was very concerned when she found Athdikar in the hallway…_riderless_."

"But why would she go out into the forest? Why not come here and find Drogo if she was concerned for him? Or at least have me be able to tell her he was fine?" Arpad wondered out loud.

"Apparently there was a troubling amount of blood on the saddle, she must have thought he was hurt and had fallen off." Vado offered respectfully before lapsing back into silence. Drogo stared at the stone floor.

"Zigere!" Chief Arpad called. Like magic, the red haired warrior appeared at his side. "Rally some of your best men, search the forest for my daughter. Bring her back to me."

Drogo moved to go when Zigere caught his eye.

"You are not one of my best men, Dothraki savage. We will go, and _I _will bring Princess Aranyos safely," he said, smirking. The added emphasis on 'I' was meant for no one other than Drogo. The young Magyar next to him heard the slight as well.

Vado grabbed for Drogo a moment too late and both men hit the floor. Drogo on top of Zigere. Csilla screamed and jumped back, Gyongi laughed, watching with interest as the Dothraki boy beat on the Magyar's best warrior. Arpad yelled for Drogo to get off Zigere at once and for the moment he hesitated gave Zigere an opening to punch him in the nose. They were back at it. The Magyar had the advantage now, pounding Drogo with all the frustration he felt. _That was for coming here, that was for loving Arnayos…this is for her loving you back. _

Vado grabbed Zigere under the arms and pulled him off of Drogo, standing between them.

* * *

><p>"I do not even want to know what happened," the healer said as she mixed an ointment. Drogo sat on the couch in his apartment, glaring at the wall in front of him silently. Vado laughed.<p>

"Well you haven't seen the other guy!" He joked good-naturedly. Drogo was unmoved by the warrior's attempt at humor. But it was true, a side of his friend had come out during that fight; a side he hadn't even seen while they were slicing through the hunting party. There was a strange savagery in the way he had attacked Zigere, a ruthlessness known only to the Dothraki.

The old woman who had treated Drogo's shoulder painted his dark face with a green cream; he flinched, slapping her hand away.

"If you want to be able to see out of your eyes tomorrow, young man, you will let me help you! Hold still," she scolded. Drogo's eyes narrowed but he allowed her to put it under his eyes and nose.

"What is your issue with him anyway?" Vado commented, meandering about the plush room and looking through drawers.

He wasn't really expecting an answer, but after a minute Drogo broke the silence, "He is marrying Aranyos."

Vado turned to him, his pale face full of comical horror, "THE PRINCESS? Awww shit. I should have guessed...He can't marry her if she's dead?"

The healer felt truly bad for the blonde young man, he was just trying to diffuse the situation, and was not expecting Drogo to leap up and grab him by his shirt.

"She is not dead," he whispered venomously. Inside, Drogo felt a slight hesitation, he really had no idea.

"Drogo, calm down, I know you don't like the guy, but Zigere and the best soldiers are out looking for her. They will find her," Vado said in all seriousness. Drogo put him down and nodded. The healer, seeing the young men needed to figure things out, took her leave.

"I should be out there! Helping to look for her," Drogo whispered to himself.

"You and Zigere would be so busy killing each other you wouldn't get anything done, just get some sleep. If they haven't found her by morning, we can rally the men and search for her ourselves," Vado promised wisely. Drogo walked over to him and clasped his hand.

"Blood of my blood."

Vado grinned, hugging his foreign friend, "you're welcome."

* * *

><p>"Khal Iyro's horde hasn't moved off yet, its been four days! What are they waiting for?" Rakharo asked himself as he watched the camp from the safety of the forest. He turned his horse and galloped back to the horde.<p>

"Khal Drakkar, Iryo's horde hasn't moved off yet," the young Dothraki explained as he walked into the khal's hut.

"He is waiting for us to attack," the black haired khal commented, seated in his throne.

"Well what are _we_ waiting for?" Rakharo asked, immediately regretting his careless manner. Drakkar's eyes narrowed as he glared toward Rakharo.

"We have no reason to leave this place, we wait for him to attack," the khal responded sagely. Rakharo nodded, understanding what he truly meant. They were waiting for Drogo, giving him a little more time to return to the horde before they

* * *

><p>Drogo woke up slowly, the light pouring in from the balcony betraying how late it was. He didn't know what to do. After a few minutes of laying in bed, nobody had rushed in to tell Drogo that Zigere had been successful nor had Aranyos bounced up to him to grace him with her presence. She was still missing. Drogo wanted to kill someone, smash something…anything! Getting out of the large bed, the warrior wandered over to the balcony, looking down at the suddenly panicked scene below him.<p>

Zigere and his men had returned, Aranyos' cream colored mare in tow. The crowd of villagers parted for the soldiers and horses, but the light colored people watched anxiously, and Drogo could hear panicked shouts. Hurrying to throw clothes on and wiping the cream from his face, he ran down to the great hall, hoping his fears would be abated.

* * *

><p>Vado met Drogo half way up the winding wooden stairs, pulling him aside on the landing. After catching his breath, the blonde man finally relayed his message, "They found Arabejla. She has blood painted on her."<p>

"You sure it is blood? Where did they find her?" Drogo asked quickly, a sense of dread setting into the pit of his stomach.

"Oh, its blood. And that is why I can to find you, they found the mare staked to a tree in the valley near the practice field." Vado affirmed, sighing, "Do you think it was-"

Drogo cut him off, his eyes dark with anger and fear, "it was the Dothraki. This is their revenge."

Vado shook his head and raced after Drogo, who was already half way down the stairs.

"But how would they have know she would be there? Wherever she was?" Vado asked, running to keep up with the Dothraki's fast pace.

"Maybe they didn't. My guess is that she ended up at the practice field, trying to find me, and they spotted her," Drogo offered, his tone flat and serious.

"Why would they have been there though?"

"The Dothraki are a savage tribe, killing, raping and pillaging is what they do best. But Dothraki always collect their dead," Drogo said, not looking at Vado as they reached the throne room's heavy wooden doors. The Magyar smiled at his friend's use of "their" instead of "our."

"So they go back to collect their dead and found her? Then what?" Vado prodded.

"They saw she wasn't a Dothraki, and…" Drogo trailed off, staring at the doors.

"_And _what?" Vado yelled. The warrior looked down, he didn't really know.

"Maybe they took her back to camp because of her coloring. If they can't get a good ransom for her, they can sell her as a slave in the Free Cities for a lot of gold. Or…Vado, they might have thought she was a bloodrider from another horde and shot her before they even saw her." It physically hurt Drogo to say that and meeting his dark green eyes to Vado's light gold ones, they walked into the throne room.

* * *

><p>"You!" Zigere spat from across the room once Vado and Drogo walked through the threshold, his eyes locked on Drogo.<p>

"What have I done now?" Drogo replied angrily as Zigere began to close the gap between them. Chief Arpad stood from his throne.

"You will not lay a hand on him," Arpad boomed. Zigere stopped dead, bowing his head in acknowledgement. It was the first time Drogo had seen the chief angry, but looking at the old man, Aranyos' disappearance had already taken its toll.

"He has been playing us all along! Now _they_ have Princess Aranyos and are doing gods know what to her!" Zigere yelled, more to rile Drogo than to make a point.

"Drogo, do you think this was the Dothraki's doing?" Arpad asked calmly.

"I have not seen the markings yet, your highness." Drogo replied, shooting a dark glance at Zigere. Vado tried vainly to edge his way in between the two.

"Ofcourse! Zigere, show the mare to Drogo," Arpad commanded, a thinly veiled threat in his tone. The red headed warrior nodded and turned to get Arabejla. Vado and Drogo followed him outside.

* * *

><p>Gyongi sat in her rooms and cried. Hearing the news her sister had been captured by the Dothraki was the same as hearing her sister was dead. Csilla tried her best to calm the princess, but fought back tears as well.<p>

They had both gone out, only to see Zigere holding Aranyos' mare with the Dothraki boy closely examining the red designs on her body.

"What do you think?" Vado asked nervously. Drogo lifted his head from the mare's neck.

"Blood, definitely Dothraki. This is war paint," he answered gravely.

That was all Gyongi could take. Her eyes full of tears, she ran back to her apartment.

* * *

><p>"What the fuck do you mean war paint?" Zigere asked, holding Arabejla's bridle. Drogo looked at him, eyes narrow.<p>

"Exactly that. What sort of warrior can't tell war paint?" Drogo countered. Vado laughed, but quickly stifled it.

"You know what savage, I didn't grow up slitting throats of whores after raping them. Excuse my incompetence," Zigere replied, Drogo still stared at the markings on the horse. Vado was silent, waiting for something to happen.

"And you know what else, if I even think you're doing something to hurt Aranyos, I will not hesitate to kill you."

"Zigere fuck off!" Vado yelled, trying to keep a fight from starting right in front of the palace.

"No. And I don't see why you're in such a hurry to find the princess anyway, she is _my_ fiance. Its not like she would run off to go be some barbarian's bitch when she could be a queen."

Vado grabbed for Arabejla's bridle a moment before Drogo lunged at Zigere, causing the mare to jump sideways and dance around.

Drogo pounded his fists into Zigere's face as Zigere punched him in the stomach. Throwing the warrior off of him, Zigere was able to kick Drogo in the ribs. Panting, Drogo felt another kick to his side before being grabbed by his braid. Vado was horrified to see the face Drogo made, there was so much fury the Magyar wondered who had done this to him before. Because this new anger seemed to come from nowhere.

Zigere had a knife before Vado could act. "Die Dothraki savage!"

Drogo fortunately had seen it too. Head-butting Zigere in the nose caused the soldier to reel backward, dropping his hold on his braid. Drogo turned and punched Zigere in the already bleeding nose and tackling him to the ground, wrestled the knife away. The Dothraki warrior created space between them, Drogo really couldn't kill Zigere; he was amazed at his ability to walk away. Drogo turned to Vado who stood with the mare, speechless.

"Damn! That was…Drogo!" Vado yelled in terror. The warrior turned around, stabbing Zigere in the stomach. The Magyar looked Drogo in the eye, as if he couldn't believe it. Scanning the Dothraki's face, all he saw was stony, bitter hatred. Then it all went black.

"You killed Zigere. Drogo," Vado whispered, shaking his head, "you have got to get out of Borok Haza."

**A/N: so, things are getting interesting huh? Perhaps R &R? I would love 20 reviews. Which is only TWO more!**

**Please?**


	8. Desperation

**A/N: Awww 3 reviews! 1 more than I asked for! So I'm going to answer them :)**

**Lovely: I try! I am working on updates, but I can't force them. it's a balance between getting them done, and doing them well. AND I understand. You don't want Aranyos raped or killed. I promise she won't die. Ok? I hate stories like that.**

**Sarah: Yeah, I try to get over 2,500 words per chapter…but sometimes it feels like a natural break in the story and I end a chapter. But I will see if this one can be longer :)**

**Minor Warning…nothing too graphic or anything but there is sex/rape in this scene.**

**Chapter 8**

_**Desperation**_

Drogo could already hear the shouts of angry soldiers as he bounded up the grand staircase. They had seen what happened- or enough to put the pieces together. He was fortunate enough to not run into any servants as he ran down the hallway. Getting to his apartment, Drogo knew he had little time and began collecting items from around the rooms. His arakh, horse leather pants, and boots were crammed into a tan leather bag; he concealed the dagger in his boots.

Looking out the window briefly, Drogo saw that 10 soldiers, older men, crowded around Zigere's body; Vado was gone. The warrior was relieved, hoping Vado could get away without being incriminated further. With one last look around the now-familiar bed chamber, Drogo took off back down the hall.

Taking the back staircase that Aranyos had shown him, Drogo smiled bitterly. He could remember that night perfectly in his mind's eye.

"_I thought we were going to a guest room," He said dryly. Aranyos smiled mischievously back at him._

"_Ever shot a bow made for 2 arrows before?" She asked. Drogo shook his head slowly. The princess grabbed his hand and dragged him down the vast hallway._

_Drogo looked at the many arched doorways and statues in the dim torchlight. This place was nothing like the Dothraki camp._

_Suddenly, Aranyos disappeared and he squinted in the darkness to find her._

"_Over here, pretty boy." Her voice broke the silence as she reappeared from the shadows, "it's a servant staircase, nobody will see us this way."_

_Trusting her, Drogo followed her down the stairs and out into the night._

Where was Aranyos now? Drogo wondered. Was she dead? A slave? In the Free Cities? The possibilities were limitless and he was loath to ponder them. Reaching the bottom of the winding staircase, Drogo snuck out the door.

"Going somewhere?" A friendly voice came from behind him. Vado and Tawak stood near the stable, Athdikar in tow. Drogo smiled in relief before clapping both young men on the shoulders.

"Thank you for risking your lives for me," he said honestly, hopping agilely on the bay stallion's back.

"You would have done the same for us," Vado nodded in solemn agreement, looking up at Drogo.

"Blood of my blood. I will see you both again," he promised.

"The gods will have it no other way," Vado replied, "this is far from the end."

There was an awkward, emotional pause before Tawak spoke to break the silence:

"The rest of the soldiers send their blessings, go now, before Zigere's men find you."

Drogo nodded, turning Athdikar and spurring him on into the forest.

* * *

><p>"Great khal. Can I just kill her? She is really of no use to us," Raiyo asked hotly. Khal Iyro eyed him skeptically. The warrior had been pitching a fit since she was captured and the khal found it amusing.<p>

"She would fetch a high price in the Free Cities, you know this. Why waste something so valuable?"

Raiyo clenched his jaw, fighting to hold his temper. Iyro stared him down, daring the younger man to challenge him.

"_Perhaps_, if you hadn't forbidden us from mounting her, we would actually get some information out of her!"

Khal Iyro shook his head, smirking at Raiyo's obvious annoyance of the Magyar, "how much is a used girl worth? But she has made an obvious impression on you in such a short time. _Perhaps _I will visit her myself."

The warrior watched, helpless, as Khal Iyro stood and made his way out of the tent.

* * *

><p>Aranyos hadn't thought she was expecting to be rescued. But after a whole day, the princess realized that deep in her heart, she had been. Why hadn't anyone found her yet? Hadn't her father sent the whole guard out after her? Surely Zigere would scour the forest to see her safely back home? Maybe he would even ask Drogo for help, he must know where the "horde" (as he called it) was!<p>

Drogo. Aranyos knew he was the one who she wanted to rescue her. Why hadn't he come? _Why would he?_ she thought_, _her doubt setting in_, she was just a girl from a different tribe. _The princess knew from stories how the Dothraki treated women, why would she be any different to him?

A large, looming shadow made its way into the hut, causing Aranyos to halt her train of depressing thoughts. She almost cried when he stepped into the dim torchlight. He was huge! His dark skin was littered with scars, covering bulging muscles. He reminded the princess more of an ox than a man. His black hair was braided down past his stomach, _he had not lost a fight in a very long time._ What scared Aranyos the most was that when she looked into his eyes, they were dark brown and obscured by thick black eye make up. She could find no windows into his soul.

"Now _hoshor vado_, Raiyo tells me you have much fire. He is hot tempered and has no patience," Iyro stooped his monstrous form to Aranyos level on the ground, "_you _will wish that I had less."

* * *

><p>Athdkiar galloped all out, his neck stretched, ears pinned back, through the forest. Drogo hoped Khal Drakkar had not moved the horde. To his relief, the outskirts of the khalasar appeared in the darkness and he pulled the stallion up. Immediately as Athdikar set hoof in the central camp, a warrior (who he recognized as Mago) came up to him and blocked his path. Drogo's eyes narrowed. He didn't have time for Mago or Quotho and their fucking issues. Mago eyed him with disdain, his eyes resting first on the steaming bay and then on Drogo and his strange attire.<p>

"You _will_ move," Drogo stated. Mago sneered.

"Khal Drakkar says no one is to enter into the khalasar unless they are Dothraki. I don't see any Dothraki here."

"You will move! And you will tell Drakkar that Drogo has returned, having tamed his horse and demands an audience with him," Drogo commanded authoritatively. Mago eyed him once more- something had changed in Drogo since he had last been seen. Nothing obvious, but there was a new air about him. An air of power that had Mago turning to do as he bid.

Drogo watched the warrior retreat into camp and a young horseman who had heard the whole exchange, offered to put Athdikar up for Drogo. He relented after seeing the stallion shiver from the cooling sweat covering his coat, Athdikar had run all out, unwavering. It was the least he could do.

* * *

><p>"They took her," Drogo said angrily, once inside Drakkar's hut. The old khal sat on his throne, silent. The warrior paced back and forth.<p>

"Welcome back Drogo, I knew you would conquer the tests the Mother put in front of you. I want to see the horse you caught," the khal replied calmly, as if Drogo had not spoken.

"Athdikar needs rest. He brought me to the khalasar without breaking a stride and deserves food and sleep!" Drogo roared, his frustration manifesting. Drakkar smirked almost unnoticeably.

"You deny me?"

Drogo's eyes darkened as he turned on the khal, getting closer to him. "I will not have him fall ill for your whim. Did you not _hear_ me? They took her! Khal Iyro's horde took her!"

Drakkar nodded, proud of the warrior. "Has taken whom?"

Drogo paled, he would have to tell the khal about the Magyar. He may have just killed them all, the beautiful city, the kind people, his friends. No one would be spared.

"Who have they taken, young Drogo?" Khal Drakkar asked, slightly more forcefully. Drogo's jaw clinched.

"Aranyos! They have taken Aranyos, she was the princess of the Magyar tribe I was staying with. She tried to find me and they took her." What had started out as a yell, ended in a whisper as the warrior fought to keep his tone expressionless.

"So you found them. You have learned much from them I can see. You say this princess, she was looking for you?" Drakkar asked thoughtfully. Drogo could hardly believe the direction the conversation was taking.

"I will not tell you any more unless you swear the Mother of the Mountains that no harm will come to any of the people. They are innocent and peaceful and I will not have their blood on my hands!" Drogo demanded. The khal nodded.

"The soldiers were training in a field in the forest when I heard a sound. Going deeper into the woods, I saw a Dothraki hunting party…the Magyar and I killed all of them once we were accidentally discovered…Athdikar ran off and when we went back to the palace to tell the chief what had happened, apparently my stallion had run back to the stable. The princess found him and though something had happened to me. She rode out to find me and must have run into the horde when they went to collect the dead," Drogo edited the story as he went, not wanting to incriminate Rakharo or Rathe…if he still lived.

Khal Drakkar was amazed at how far Drogo had gone to protect not only his close friends, but the group of people (so unlike the Dothraki) who had adopted him. It had worked out just as well as Drakkar hoped.

"You say she rode off, by herself? Why would she do this?" The khal asked, feigning ignorance.

"Khal, the Magyar are much different that us, the women are much more….outspoken and a larger part of society. Especially Aranyos. She is the best archer I have ever seen and can ride a horse like a blood rider. Once she wants something, nothing can dissuade her," Drogo explained, a smile ghosting his face.

"I see. But why would she risk her life for yours, making such a rash decision? Could she not have a soldier go out to find you?" Drakkar stared him down, daring him to answer truthfully. Drogo sighed and the khal nodded slowly.

"What would you have us do Drogo?"

"I have to go get her. I can bring her here until she is well enough to return to her people. It will keep them from revealing themselves to the khalasar…and I'm sure that's what Khal Iyro wants. He wants them all to pay for what we have done," Drogo told him, surprised at how easily that plan came to him.

"You will take no one? Rathe is well and I'm sure he and Rakharo would want to come with you," Drakkar smiled. Drogo paled. The khal had known all along. He felt stupid and nodded graciously before exiting the hut.

* * *

><p>Drogo walked the familiar path back to his old hut when he remembered that his father was there. The fire was lit and emitting a warning glow, telling him to get away while he still could. He pressed onward.<p>

As he neared the entrance, he could hear grunting and when he silently entered the hut, Drogo saw his father was with a woman. He didn't alert them to his presence right away, and just watched the scene with a new-found sense of profound wrongness. The woman, upon closer inspection, was nothing more than a girl. Judging by her slightly lighter skin, she also was not Dothraki; she was just a foreign slave. Drogo was about to turn and flee when the girl turned her face up from the ground and looked at him. Straight in the eye.

"If I find you have killed her, you will beg for death." Walking back out into the night, Drogo heard a feminine gasp and an angry yell come from inside the hut. He had to find her. Now.

* * *

><p>"I don't know where she could possibly be! We searched the forest a hundred times!" Tawak yelled in frustration as he and Vado rode back to Borok Haza.<p>

"We need to find Drogo. If anyone can find a Dothraki camp, its him," Vado said confidently.

"You don't think he had anything to do with this, do you?" Tawak asked quietly. Vado turned to the blonde soldier with a shocked expression.

"No. I do not. And if you do, then I am ashamed."

"No. I don't. You're right, we should tell Chief Arpad that we need to find Drogo," Tawak agreed. Vado sighed in exasperation.

"Easier said than done."

* * *

><p>"I will NOT have that barbarian in my city. He would be just as likely to kill you as help us," Arpad roared from his throne. Vado looked as if he was to say something and the chief continued, "that is the end of this conversation."<p>

Vado made eye contact with Gyongi who stood next to her father.

"Father, Drogo could be our only hope. He would help us if we asked him," Gyongi explained sweetly.

"The first Dothraki to come to our camp in 1000's of years, the princess is kidnapped and our best soldier is killed. Do not tell me those are not related," the chief retorted. Gyongi fought down her urge to argue further and cast Vado a conciliatory glance. She tried.

"Very well, we will continue our search, come on Tawak," Vado clenched his teeth and fled the throne room.

"Now what?" Tawak whispered as they hurried down the hall.

"We find Drogo ourselves."

* * *

><p>Aranyos shivered as she stared at the ceiling of the slowly lightening hut. Blood trickling down her temple tickled but she didn't bother to wipe it off. She had to think back to the painful night before, as much as her brain fought it. A sudden feeling of hopeless horror flooded her body:<p>

She had told him where the city was.

**A/N: CLIFF HANGER! I'm mean. Kinda a weird chapter I know. But I hope it comes off as...artsy. haha**

Oh for anyone who noticed, the word "Vado" in Hungarian means "fast footed" but in Dothraki it means "filly"…"young girl horse" so the khal calls her "little golden filly"

**R&R? **


	9. Revenge for the Kind

**Chapter 9**

_**Revenge for the Kind**_

"Wait. So you want to go, sneak into Khal Iyro's horde, kidnap a mythical golden princess and bring her back here? Is that what you are telling me right now?" Rakharo asked incredulously, eyeing Drogo from his position on the fur covered bed. Drogo paused for a moment.

"Yeah. What's the problem? I can't just leave her there! The Mother only knows what is happening to her," he retorted.

"Out of that whole damn story, all you can ask is about sneaking into another HORDE?" Rathe asked in pretend shock. Drogo looked back and forth between the two.

"Well, its what is most important!" Rakharo defended, "I just wanted my facts straight!"

"So are you both coming or not?" Drogo interjected, annoyed at their waste of time.

The warriors exchanged a quick glance before Rakharo spoke, "Blood of my blood. We would follow you through anything."

"We must go before Iyro moves the horde off…it's a few hours ride through the forest," Rathe reasoned.

"We had to go watch them for the khal, we can easily find the khalasar again," Rakharo added helpfully.

"Can you find it in the dark?" Drogo asked, pacing the length of the small hut.

Rathe made a funny face before answering, "It would be wise to leave when it was still light to, to make sure we can get there and watch them retire for the night. Then maybe we will have an idea of where the golden magic princess is _before _we get into the khalasar."

Drogo's brow furrowed at the use of the phrase "golden magic princess," this wasn't a joke, but he nodded in agreement at what was said.

"Where are you gonna put her…assuming we get her back here safely?" Rakharo asked, truly interested. Drogo's face darkened even more at the knowledge of what he had to do.

"Its mythical golden princess! Not magic golden princess anyway," Rakharo shot at Rathe who rolled his eyes.

"I'm going to put her in my hut. I want to be able to keep an eye on her and keep her close. I don't trust Mago or Qotho, let alone most of the blood riders. She wouldn't be any better here than she was there," Drogo explained, thinking about facing his father again.

Rakharo clapped him on the shoulder, "Good luck, do what you must. We will meet you before dusk."

* * *

><p>"Princess," Vado acknowledged as he walked off of the practice field. She hurried to catch up with him.<p>

"Don't do it."

That caused the soldier to turn back to her, "Do what?"

"Go and try to find Drogo by yourself. I know that is what you want to do, and I'm telling you, its not the wisest plan of action," Gyongi explained, running a hand through her long blonde hair. Vado tried to bite his tongue.

"Why not?" He asked, walking closer to her.

"There are two things that could be happening right now, either Drogo ran away because he truly betrayed us, or at this moment, he is trying to find Aranyos. Either way, you trying to find the Dothraki camp and praying they accept you with open arms is a very bad idea," the princess replied sarcastically, hoping she got her point across. From the frustrated look on Vado's face, Gyongi assumed her words hit their mark. She put a hand on his arm, attempting to calm him.

"I really think Drogo loves her, and I think she loves him. We need you here," she reaffirmed. Vado nodded in understanding before retreating to the barracks.

Gyongi prayed to the gods that she was right.

* * *

><p>"It has been three days. No one has come for her," Raiyo fumed, stalking up to the khal. Iyro smirked.<p>

"They don't have to," the khal replied vaguely. "I have enough information from her."

* * *

><p>As Drogo strode through the camp, making his way to Bharbo's hut- and the fight that was imminent, he heard screaming. Looking sideways, he saw Mago harassing a girl. Drogo was not in the mood for this and seeing the young man grab the fair skinned slave made his blood boil.<p>

"Let her go Mago."

Mago held the girl- who to Drogo's horror had been in his father's hut the night before- tightly by the arm, "Just because you can't get it up, doesn't mean you can tell me what to do or what slaves to mount!"

Drogo sighed; the girl was staring at him straight in the eye, as if she was waiting for him to give up. He wished he had more than a dagger, but it would have to do. Pulling it out of his pants pocket, Drogo kept it by his side. Mago laughed.

"What…are you going to _cut_ me or something? Don't you have some foreign whore to fetch from Khal Iyro? I thought you'd be more impatient to go get yourself killed, but here you are," Mago spat. The black haired warrior's words had meant to hurt Drogo, but he didn't know how closely they had hit their mark. Before Mago knew what was coming, Drogo punched him, his nose instantly trickling blood. The girl screamed and ran off.

Mago, being a skilled fighter himself, kicked Drogo squarely in the chest from his crouching position. As Drogo gasped for air, Mago wiped off the blood that was running onto his lips. His relief was short-lived as Drogo towered over his sitting form. Looking up, he couldn't even recognize the boy he had grown up with and beat up often. He had crossed a line somehow, and knew there would be no mercy. Drogo grabbed Mago's black braid, pulling him up off of the ground.

"You see them? Huh?" Drogo asked smugly in Mago's ear as he stood behind him. Mago looked at the tiny crowd of women who were watching the fight, he recognized each of the slave women's faces. Drogo laughed, putting his dagger (which, in retrospect, was quite useful after all) to Mago's throat, "how many of them did you rape?…a better question is, which of them are you expecting to come and help you Mago?"

The pain in the warrior's head was excruciating as Drogo had a tight grip on his hair. He gazed into the crowd of slaves, in the front of them was the damned girl. Each one glared at him with a special unveiled hatred. Mago had never felt so alone.

"Any one of you can save him. Don't be scared. Just step forward and I will release him, no harm will come to you!" Drogo called to the women, mocking the warrior when none of them even moved.

"You have many _foreign whores_, Mago. And none will lift a finger to save you," Drogo whispered, continuing venomously, "Mine is going through Hell for me."

Blood pouring from his throat, Mago was dead before he hit the dust ground.

Ignoring the girl's grateful smile, Drogo continued to his father's hut.

* * *

><p>She had told him where the city was.<p>

Aranyos began crying futilely. Her body hurt, her stomach ached and she was covered in her own blood. The princess knew she had to do something, her people wouldn't stand a chance against a whole camp of Dothraki warriors.

"So, _hoshor vado,_ what were you doing out all by yourself that night?"

Aranyos looked up, cringing involuntarily at the pet name. In the darkness of the hut, the princess could make out Iyro's monstrous form. A new wave of tears came to her eyes as the thoughts she had been repressing, came forth.

Masking her sadness with a glare, she replied, "Looking for a friend."

The khal laughed, "what sort of woman goes into a forest by herself? Her master wouldn't be happy with that."

"Maybe she doesn't have one." Aranyos countered with as much courage as she could muster. In the dim light, the princess could see he was trying to restrain himself…no doubt he would have struck her already. The khal's eyes had darkened even more, betraying him.

"Did you find your…friend?" Iyro asked.

"You know I did not," Aranyos spat. The khal actually chuckled at this, not his mocking snicker, but an honest laugh.

"She is probably safe, she found her way back by herself no doubt," Khal Iyro offered.

"I wouldn't know if he is or not! The last thing I saw was his horse with a bloody saddle! So I would guess he isn't fine because I couldn't search for him and bring him back home. He probably fucking bled out and was eaten by wild dogs!" Aranyos yelled. As quickly as his amiable nature came out, it was stifled and Aranyos found herself grabbed around the neck before being slammed on the ground.

"Your courage is cute, but you will not speak to me in that way again. You will learn respect."

* * *

><p>"I heard what you did to Mago, maybe you aren't such a woman afterall."<p>

Drogo glared at his father as he entered the spacious hut, "I stood up for someone that I owed a favor to. But that is not why I have returned."

Bharbo scoffed, "ohh! The great Drogo has decided to grace me with his presence! To what do I owe the honor, you ungrateful son of a bitch?"

"Tonight I am going to bring a woman in here. I don't know how she will be. She could be almost dead. You will not touch her. You will not LOOK at her. Do you understand me?" Drogo asked, meeting the older man's challenging stare.

"Half-dead huh? Maybe I over estimated you, but Im sure there are some perfectly alive girls who wouldn't mind being in your company, _pretty boy,_" Bharbo taunted. Drogo froze at the nickname, remembering the first time he had seen Aranyos. She had called him that.

"YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER. If you do, I will cause you so much pain, you will beg for death. Then, I will drag you out into the middle of the forest and let the wild dogs tear you apart. Once the dogs are done, the birds will pick your flesh, worms will feed on your eyes and when someone stumbles upon your bones, they will pity the nameless fool who died alone and unloved in the middle of the forest!" Drogo yelled. Bharbo stood, speechless for a long while. As if he couldn't believe the words that had come out of his son's mouth. Appraising Drogo for the first time since he had come in the hut, Bharbo realized how much he had changed. Drogo was very tall, and his muscles had stared filling out his shoulders and arms. A long brown braid hung past his chest and he was spattered with blood. Drogo had grown up since he last saw him.

Bharbo nodded in acknowledgement before exiting the hut, "Its about time you had your own hut anyway. While you are gone I will get my things. You and your whore can have your privacy."

That moment Drogo realized he was disowned. He also realized that he didn't care-

He had more important things to worry about.

* * *

><p>Laying on the floor of the hut, Aranyos didn't even attempt to stir when she heard commotion outside. It wasn't very loud, and was over as quickly as it had started, but the princess swore she heard horses galloping and metal swinging. The night was still and calm once more as she waited for another sign of movement. Nothing. Aranyos prayed to the gods that it wasn't the khal again, coming to take her; She couldn't take it anymore. Just the thought had her panicked and she held her breath as someone quietly entered the hut.<p>

"Aranyos?" A distinct voice whispered. The princess's eyes filled with tears, as she thanked the gods.

"Drogo!" Aranyos called happily, keeping quiet. He slowly worked his way deeper into the dark hut until he was upon her. If she would have had the energy, the princess would have hugged him; but she didn't have to. Drogo grabbed her and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her tiny shoulders.

Burying her head in the crook of his neck, Aranyos inhaled his calming scent, and allowed herself to cry.

**A/N: We got to see a little bit of badass Khal Drogo in there huh? *sniff sniff* they grow up so fast!**

**:) **

**Pleaseee R & R! I would love 40 reviews before this story is over!**


	10. I'd Come for You

**A/N: *flees angry mob* SORRY for the wait! My life has been crazy…both good and bad. Prom, ACT, exams, thrown from a horse, horse show, car accident! I hope my excuse is good enough? :)**

**Listen to the song **_**I'd Come for You **_**by Nickelback. I realize more and more that this story is based on that song. DON'T HATE ON NICKELBACK! Hahaha**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 10**

_**I'd Come for You**_

The forest was eerily quiet as the four of them rode back to the horde, as if the birds, deer and other creatures were holding their breath. Getting into the khalasar was quite simple; although five warriors guarded the hut, the rest of the camp was dead to the world. Drogo guessed this was because the khal was expecting an army of Magyar soldiers to attack them, there was no reason to suspect a few Dothraki would sneak in during the night. Once he laid eyes on her, Drogo realized he was relieved just to see her alive and responsive. At least she could ride a horse. It had occurred to the young warriors (belatedly) that if she were injured and unable to ride, they had _no _back up plan. Looking at Aranyos, Drogo couldn't tell if she had any gaping wounds. He knew, from experience, she was injured in at least one way, but the princess stared straight into the darkness, her head held high. Despite the circumstances, Drogo smiled, _once a princess, always a princess. _

* * *

><p>"Where is she now?" Khal Drakkar asked with interest. Drogo, Drakkar and the khaleesi- Tayla stood in the khal's hut.<p>

"I put her in _my_ hut, she is very weak and immediately collapsed," Drogo replied. Something about the emphasis he put on "my" caused the khal to smile.

"Then she needs a healer no doubt, along with a servant. If she is a guest, royalty no less, she can have one of Tayla's women for the time being," Drakkar assumed. Drogo nodded, looking toward the khaleesi for confirmation. Tayla was pleasantly surprised that she was being asked permission- after the khal had given him permission. Smiling, she consented.

"I will go fetch Leia, she will have your woman looking like a princess in no time," Tayla announced, leaving the hut. Drogo waited to laugh until she was a respectful distance. _His woman? _That was the weirdest idea he had ever heard. Especially since Aranyos was never going to let herself be anyone's. The khal, although confused by Drogo's reaction, smiled and joined in momentarily.

"Thank you for your help, Khal Drakkar," Drogo excused himself and exited the hut.

* * *

><p>Aranyos was relieved to see a young woman come into the hut, she was dark skinned and had black hair. The girl eyed her respectfully.<p>

"I am Leia, one of the khaleesi's maids. She sent me here to take care of you."

Aranyos nodded, not needing a mirror to know she was covered in dirt and her hair was caked with blood. "I am Aranyos."

A few other women came in silently with a tub and steaming water, leaving before the princess could thank them.

"Come, lady. Let's get you cleaned up," Leia broke the silence, holding out her hand to beacon her over. Aranyos almost smiled, shedding the small shreds of clothing she still had on. Ugly purple bruises and wounds covered her body.

"We'll get you fixed up in no time, for handsome young Drogo huh?" Leia commented conversationally, scrubbing on the princess' dirty skin. Aranyos paled, covering her chest instinctively.

"No. Its not like that! He is just repaying me. I saved his life not that long ago," she explained hotly, feeling sick. The girl, noting Aranyos' change in demeanor, decided to avoid that subject. Obviously she was traumatized from her time in the other khalasar. Having seen the way slaves were treated in the camp, Leia pitied her greatly.

"I'm sorry lady Aranyos. Let's get you cleaned up just so you are _clean_."

The princess knew she shouldn't have yelled at her, but she couldn't help it, she had panicked.

* * *

><p>He had to contact Chief Arpad. He had to tell him that his daughter was safe. But how? The Magyars probably hated him for killing Zigere! Gah! Drogo paced back and forth in Rakharo's hut.<p>

"Drogo, chill out. She's safe, no one in Iyro's khalasar saw us and Khal Drakkar is letting her stay. Just be happy!" Rakharo complained, knowing it would anger the already tense warrior.

"Do you think she told Khal Iyro where their village was?" Rathe asked seriously, looking up at Drogo from his spot on the bed of furs.

"It depends on how much the khal wanted to know where it was. Obviously he knew she was Magyar." Drogo replied, continuing to pace. Rathe nodded in understanding. From what his friend had said, this girl was pretty tough- even for a warrior. But if they wanted the information, they would torture her until she broke. "I have to go see her."

Rakharo and Rathe watched, silently amused at the seemingly random decision, as Drogo left the hut.

* * *

><p>Leia had left the hut and Aranyos sat on the bed of furs. For how well the girl had bathed her and washed her hair, the princess still felt filthy. She drank all of the water Leia had left her, but didn't dare touch the suspicious looking meat. She hardly ate <em>normal<em> meat, let alone horse meat! That thought reminded her of Arabejla, _where was she? Was she dead? Was she some blood rider's mount? Was she roaming lost? _Aranoys began to cry.

"Aranyos?"

Her head popped up, startled by the intrusion. The princess' heart filled with terror for a moment, before she recognized Drogo. Part of her wanted to hug him, happy he was safe and with her, part of her wanted to cower in senseless fear.

Drogo didn't need to ask- no part of her was free from a wound or bruise. She had to have told Khal Iyro. Looking at her, he saw the uncharacteristic fear in her eyes, _she had been broken._ "Arabejla is back in the village."

Drogo smiled at her relieved expression, happy he could abate her fear even slightly. "She was found by the warriors before I left."

There was a long pause before Aranyos whispered: "Why did you leave?"

He had to answer delicately, Drogo knew. Otherwise she would be just as scared as she was when he walked in, "Zigere and I fought."

"You _fought_," Aranyos replied skeptically, her fear morphing into worry. Drogo nodded, not knowing how to proceed. He should have known she wouldn't buy it.

"He pulled a knife out and tried to stab me in the back."

Aranyos stared at him in disbelief, realizing what he meant by "tried." Zigere was dead. Drogo had killed him. "_Oh_."

Remorse washed over him and he slowly inched closer to her, "I'm sorry, Aranyos. I know he was your betrothed."

The princess froze, looking up from her spot on the bed. So he had found out her secret. The reason she had tried to avoid him. After all they had been through, they were back to _this._

"I'm glad you killed him." Quickly, Aranyos looked away.

Drogo was not expecting that, but the look on the princess' face was unnatural to her and he was reminded that she had been changed from her time in the other khalasar. "I don't think you mean that."

Aranyos glared up at him weakly, futilely wiping the tears from her face. Drogo didn't know what to do. He had never been in a situation like this, and he quite frankly, wasn't prepared. Half of him wanted to flee the tent and go hit something and half of him wanted to try to comfort her. A very foreign concept.

The decision was made for him when Aranyos' façade broke. Her glare had vanished and she was sobbing. Slowly, he inched over to the bed, sitting next to her.

"Get away from me," The princess demanded weakly, turning away from him.

It would be more awkward now, with her turned away from him, Drogo realized, but he was going to do it anyway…he had already come this far. Slowly, hoping to not startle her, Drogo wrapped his arms around Aranyos.

She briefly resisted before giving in, leaning back on him.

* * *

><p>Aranyos woke up very early, graphic nightmares keeping a restful sleep from her…or maybe it was the lumpy mattress? The princess looked behind her, only to see Drogo- sound asleep. Memories of the night before came back, they must have fallen asleep together. Aranyos blushed, taking another look at the boy on the bed. He was a perfect contradiction: his face was beautiful and peaceful with sleep, but his body was dark and muscular, already littered with small scars. There was no time to dwell now, she had to get out.<p>

As silently as she could, Aranyos rose from the bed and fled the hut, out into the early light of dawn.

* * *

><p>"She is gone!" Raiyo shouted, stalking past the other blood riders and up to the khal.<p>

Khal Iyro glared at him, challenging him to use that tone again.

Raiyo chose his words carefully, "The two guards were killed and she was gone."

"She is of no use to us, I know where the Magyar village is. Finally, we will do as the Great Stallion had intended: eliminate the Magyar," Iyro explained before turning and heading back into his hut.

* * *

><p>Every movement had hurt, but Aranyos managed to bridle a chestnut mare and leave the Dothraki camp undetected. It was barely dawn and no one had risen yet. The princess knew Borok Haza was in danger, and she had to warn them. Maybe even evacuate.<p>

She also had to get away from Drogo.

* * *

><p>"What if she's- dead?" Gyongi cried, looking out the stained glass window in her apartment. Csilla, who was equally as worried, patted her back reassuringly.<p>

"I'm sure Arany has figured a way out, you know her! Maybe she's free and heading back…Mother Goddess!" Csilla exclaimed, looking out the window at the edge of the village. If the young woman hadn't known better, she would have sworn that was Aranyos.

"Thank the Moth…FATHER!" Gyongi screamed, tearing out of her room and down the hall. Csilla followed suit, only turning toward the front door and out to greet her best friend.

"Aranyos!"

The princess heard her name being called and recognized Csilla's dark blonde curls.

"Csilla!" Aranyos tried to canter over to her, but the horse was not as smooth as Arabejla and it hurt too much.

"How did you get out? What happened? Do you need a healer?" The young woman bombarded her with questions as she squeezed her tightly.

"No, Csilla I'm fine, but I must see my father. I have some important information for him," Aranyos replied in all seriousness.

Together they returned to the palace.

**A/N: So Aranyos is going to be a little OOC because of her shock and trauma…probably 1 more chapter! Wow. Its almost over :(**

**I would LOVE 40 reviews before this story is done. **

**R&R!**

**Sorry for any grammatical errors, I'll fix them, I just wanted to get this posted!**


	11. Home Is Where the Ko Is

**A/N: So I thought this would be the last chapter, but there will be one more because it was too much stuff to fit in! Kinda sad I didn't get any reviews…but I guess that's what happens when you don't update often enough! But I do want to finish this story, so I promise to get it done!**

**Chapter 11**

_**Home Is Where the Ko Is**_

"She's gone!" Drogo yelled, panicking. Rathe blinked sleepily and lifted his head from the pillow.

"Wouldn't she _still_ be gone in a few hours? I am trying to sleep!" The young man retorted, putting his head back down. Just then, Rakharo burst into Rathe's hut. He groaned.

" 'Of my blood! Are you sure this girl _likes_ you? Because it seems like she's doing a lot of avoiding for someone who…" Rakharo trailed off when he saw Drogo's face. He was really freaked out, and Rakharo decided it was in his best interest to stop joking.

"I don't know! She might not even be thinking straight. She was so beaten up and broken looking, she could be lost! What am I going to do! Khal Iyro's men could find her wandering in the forest! Oh Mother Goddess!" Drogo began pacing.

Rathe finally sat up, realizing his friends were not leaving him to sleep, "She's a smart fairy-princess Drogo, you're the one who explained that to us. Maybe have some faith in her."

Rakharo nodded in agreement, hoping it would abate some of his friend's fear. "We can search the woods. If we can't find her, we have to…_hope she went back to her village_."

Drogo was gone before he could finish his thought. Rathe sighed exasperatedly and got out of bed. Both warriors rushed from the hut and went to find their friend.

* * *

><p>"Father…that is ridiculous!" Aranyos exclaimed as Chief Arpad explained what had happened. "Drogo didn't mean to kill Zigere, it was an accident."<p>

"You don't accidentally stab someone with a knife Aranyos! You are not that foolish. Of course the Dothraki boy would tell you he didn't mean it!" The chief retorted, standing from his throne in the main hall. The princess stood in the center of the room, her hands balled into fists.

"You treated him like a son! And now, at the slightest sign of adversity you _disown_ him?" Aranyos badgered, completely frustrated by her father's stubbornness.

"We are at war Aranyos! Our soldiers have told me the Dothraki are moving closer!"

"A war we could not possibly win! If the men have seen them move closer then they know the Dothraki outnumber us two to one!" The princess yelled. Arpad had had enough.

""I am done with this discussion, young lady. Set an example for the other women and trust me, trust the soldiers," The chief's voice softened, he really didn't want to hurt his willful daughter's feelings- he had raised her much more political than her sister.

"I will not go to my room and pretend nothing is happening. That is Gyongi, not me," Aranyos replied, meaning no disrespect to her older sister.

"Aran…" Arpad started, but she had already fled the great hall.

* * *

><p>"He thinks I will just pretend I don't know anything? Just wait for us to be attacked?" Aranyos fumed to Csilla as the healer began cleaning her multiple wounds. Her friend shifted uncomfortably.<p>

"What can you do though? I mean, you aren't a soldier, and you can't make more soldiers appear by magic. We just have to help in the ways we can," Csilla explained kindly, twisting her curly hair with her fingers.

"I wish Drogo were here, he could at least give us some insight on strategy or something!" The princess admitted.

Csilla wasn't entirely sure Drogo wasn't the reason she was kidnapped in the first place, but she knew Aranyos was adamant about his innocence, "Well didn't he teach the younger soldiers? That has to help…and if you wanted to see him, why did you run off?"

The princess could tell Csilla was joking, but it did cause her to stop and think. _Why did she run off? It wasn't like he would have forced her to stay. She could have left later in the day, after saying goodbye._

"I- I had to bring the message as quickly as possible. It couldn't wait."

Her friend looked at her skeptically, "Aranyos, I have known you for all of your 18 years. I can tell when you are lying."

The old healer laughed quietly, "Oh, children in love."

"I am not in love with him!" Aranyos replied hotly.

"You went out in the middle of the night to go find him because you were afraid he was hurt," Csilla stated, as though that would be proof enough. The princess glared at her.

"I would have done that for you, and I'm not in love with you!" Aranyos reasoned. The other girl nodded, undeterred.

"That may be, but _I'm_ not a tall, muscular, brown-eyed, bronze warrior god," Csilla replied, adding comical emphasis on each adjective.

"Green-eyed," Aranyos whispered.

"What did you say?" Csilla asked, knowing her ruse worked the way it was supposed to.

"He has green eyes okay…" The princess stopped talking as soon as he realized what she had done. Csilla cocked one eye-brow. The healer laughed again, dabbing salve on one of Aranyos' wounds.

Aranyos sighed, giving her friend a guilty glance.

* * *

><p>"Princess," The young soldier acknowledged, "How is Princess Aranyos feeling today?"<p>

"She is much better, it seems as if the Dothaki healer actually did some good. But Vado, my sister would like a word with you, she says it is urgent." Gyongi replied, getting straight to the point.

Vado nodded obediently, but gave her a smile. Despite the stressful circumstances, he noted that she looked nice in lavender. "If she isn't busy now, I will go see her."

The princess smiled back and watched from her place by the stable as he walked up to the palace.

* * *

><p>"Aranyos?" Vado asked, knocking on the great carved wooden doors. He heard a quick pattering of feet as one massive door opened, revealing a very beaten up princess.<p>

"Yes, come in Vado. I have a favor to ask of you," Aranyos ushered him onto one of the couches in the sitting room. He rolled his eyes, laughing.

"You sure do get to the point."

"You know as well as I do that the Dothraki are coming to Borok Haza. Their numbers are greater than even my father expects. He won't listen to reason and I need you to go find Drogo. Find him and tell him what is happening. Tell him that if he ever had any allegiance with the Magyar, he must help us," The princess explained, standing up in front of him.

"I'm sure Drogo would help, he cares for our village. He will find a way," Vado agreed, knowing his friend may be their only hope. "I will ride to their camp and find him."

Aranyos' eyes went wide, "Bring at least Tawak with you, If all else fails, say: _me asshilat a Khal Drakkar._"

"Meaning…?"

Aranyos looked him straight in the eye, all traces of amusement gone, "Take me to Khal Drakkar."

Vado nodded obediently, knowing their time was limited and exited the princess's room.

* * *

><p>The khal didn't need to be told that the other horde was on the move. He was well aware. Drakkar also knew that Iyro was a conceited, cruel khal that looked for battles to start. From what young Drogo had told him, the Magyar princess was tough, even for a man, but there was no way she escaped that khalasar without telling the khal where their lost city was. And Khal Drakkar knew Iryo wouldn't hesitate to wipe out the enemy tribe. Drakkar had been waiting many winters to meet up with Iyro, to fight him, but sat idly around the fire pit with his ko- waiting for Drogo to confront him about the attack. Drakkar knew that if the young blood rider was destined to be khal, as Drakkar had forseen, Drogo would not be afraid of the other horde. He would be anxious to protect the Magyar, <em>his people<em>.

* * *

><p>Vado rode aimlessly through the forest, Tawak at his side. They had no idea where Drogo's horde was, or how to tell the difference between it and the other one. But Vado was determined to find his foreign friend; as the Dothraki moved closer, the Magyar became frighteningly aware of how unprepared they were for an attack. Drogo was their only hope, maybe he had some friends who would help.<p>

"Vado? Tawak?"

The blonde warriors turned, startled by the curious voice. Drogo and two other Dothraki boys (who Vado recognized as Rakharo and Rathe) appeared from the dense foliage.

"Drogo! We were looking for you. The horde is moving closer to Borok Haza, they out number us two to one!" Vado explained, his usually calm voice now panic-stricken.

Rathe and Rakharo looked to Drogo for a translation and he frowned. It would be easy for the blood rider to say he could get help, it would be very difficult to convince the blood riders to actually help. There was no time to waste, Iyro's khalasar was not that far from Borok Haza to begin with, if they were moving closer, they would be at the city by night fall.

"I will explain on the way back, I have to talk to Khal Drakkar," Drogo called in Dothraki, turning Athdikar and galloping into the forest. The two Magyars looked over at the two Dothraki boys. Sighing, Rakharo made the universal sign for "follow me" and turned back to the khalasar.

* * *

><p>Finally, what the khal had been waiting for came galloping into camp. Drogo lept from his stallion while he was still trotting, not missing a beat as he stalked up to Drakkar. The khal tried not to smile.<p>

"I need to talk to you," Drogo all but demanded. Drakkar didn't move.

"If you have something to say, young Drogo, you can say it in front of my ko," The khal replied, not unkindly. The blood rider panned the fearsome faces sitting around the fire, refusing to be intimidated.

"You know Khal Iyro's horde is going to attack the Magyar village. They need to be stopped," Drogo explained, gritting his teeth at the laughter that followed his statement. The khal was not laughing, and stared at him intensely. He decided to continue. "They will all be killed." Drogo cringed at his stupid point, that was what the Dothraki did. _Not helping his case. _

"If the Magyar are gone, then it will be as the Great Stallion had always intended! The Dothraki will be the victors!" One blood rider roared, the rest of the ko shouted their agreement. Drogo stood, seething.

"Shut up! Listen to me. These people got over their hatred of us and saved my life. They do not deserve to be crushed by Khal Iyro's greed! Why would true Dothraki blood riders sit on their asses around a fire when their enemy khalasar is on the move to plunder a city? Would you really dishonor your khal, allowing another to earn the right to call himself the slayer of the Magyar? The vessel of the Great Stallion's wishes?…huh?" Drogo berated, not noticing the khal's smile or the four warriors who walked up behind him. The ko gawked, seeing the blonde-haired golden-eyed people for the first time.

Rakharo had heard the speech Drogo was giving and he and Rathe decided he needed back up. The blonde warriors wouldn't hurt either. "I will fight with you, Drogo."

Drogo looked back, smiling with relief. Rathe nodded, "I will fight with you, Drogo."

Vado and Tawak couldn't understand much of what was being said, but knew what the two Dothraki warriors had said. Vado stepped up, butting heads with his friend, "All of my people will fight with you, Drogo."

Qotho watched from a ways back, wanting to know what was going on after Drogo came galloping through the camp like a bat out of the nightlands. The blood rider had heard his speech and although he didn't want to admit it, Drogo was right, they could allow their enemy khalasar to have the glory of defeating the Magyar. "I will fight with you, Drogo."

**A/N: So I thought this was a good spot to leave off for now, I know how its gonna end so the next chapter should come before I die of old age! **

**Hahaha thanks for sticking with me everyone and if you can find it in your hearts to forgive me, **_**review**_** :)**


	12. My Hero is You

**A/N: This is it! I apologize if it is poor quality, I will definitely revise it! I just really needed this story completed…check it off my to do list!**

**Chapter 12**

_**My Hero is You**_

Panic had begun to consume the village as Khal Iyro's horde drew closer, no one was prepared for this level of threat. The soldiers herded people into Borok Haza's stone walls, but they knew they would be little help; they were meant for a feeling of privacy and unity, not for war. Any man older than 13 was recruited into the army and the women and children brought into the relative safety of the castle. There was a strange air circling amongst the men, one that suggested that they all knew these precautions were pointless. Many of the elders took to praying in the city's holy places- refusing to be moved out of harm's direct path.

Princess Aranyos used her room as a vantage point, being one of the highest rooms in the castle with a window facing out toward the city; she refused to stand by and watch her countrymen be slaughtered. Csilla stood by her, if only because of their longtime friendship. Aranyos knew the girl would be with Gyongi and the other women if that were not the case. It shocked the princess that there were not more women who wanted to help in the fight when she asked if anyone else wanted to go to her apartment with them. She had a feeling that as time passed and the small feeling of security vanished, more would come to seek shelter. As it was, Aranyos stood ready at her window, bow drawn.

"I don't see why we cannot just evacuate the city," Csilla commented, sitting on the stone window bench, not daring to look out at the last moments of eerie tranquility Borok Haza would ever have.

The princess sighed, it would have been a perfect idea, had her father listened to her hours ago. Now it was too late, the fields of wild oats and barley began to smoke; they were burning the crops. "It is too late now."

"Do you think Vado and Tawak will return with help?" Csilla asked, though her tone made it obvious that she doubted it. The curly haired girl was just trying to make conversation. Aranyos allowed her thoughts to drift to Drogo; she knew instinctively that he was going to bring help. Whether that would be enough to save her people, the princess had no idea.

* * *

><p>It felt like an eternity before the warriors were ready to leave. Before Tawak calmed him, Drogo had convinced himself that the blood riders were moving slowly just to spite him. The Magyar assured him they were moving as quickly as possible and Rakharo concurred.<p>

Suddenly Athdikar's head shot up and his ears pricked forward toward the forest outside of the camp. The stallion smelled it seconds before his rider- smoke. They had to go now, or else there may not _be_ a Borok Haza by the time they arrived.

"Tawak, stay with the horde. Show them where the city is when they are ready," Drogo ordered, wheeling the stallion around to where Rakharo and the young Dothraki stood prepared for action, "Blood of my blood! Fight with vengeance in your hearts! For the Mother of the Mountains would rather see a dishonorable khal sent to the Nightlands than your greatest enemy!"

A roar of agreement was his reply as the young men mounted and drew their arakhs. Looking over their faces, Drogo made the realization that they all awaited _his_ order, to follow him to what could be their deaths. It was both sobering and awesome.

With a wave of his arakh, Drogo galloped off into the forest, deep in his chest he could feel the thunderous hoof beats that followed him.

* * *

><p>The shrieks of pain and smell of smoke that flooded the ancient city of his enemy drove Khal Iyro on. It wasn't the most challenging conquest he had ever had in his illustrious career as khal, but it would be the most satisfying once he caught the Magyar princess that managed to escape the camp. He sliced through the weak Magyar soldiers swiftly, fighting his way toward the castle, the only place that could conceivably be holding the women and children.<p>

Iyro smirked, forcing himself to be patient.

* * *

><p>"More arrows!" Aranyos shouted, firing the last one with deadly accuracy into the chest of a Dothraki warrior. Csilla hurried off to fetch more from the couch where they were all laid out in bundles. The siege had taken only moments and the fighting was deteriorating quickly. The princess had shot down a hundred warriors, and it seemed like Khal Iyro had a hundred more.<p>

More Magyar women, mainly the mothers had begun to flood her apartments as the Dothraki began closing in on the castle and Aranyos put them to work. Some stoked the fire and others dumped boiling water from the windows, each woman seeming to be devoted to their new soldier status. That was a better preoccupation than watching their men be butchered, the princess supposed.

"Anything else?" Csilla asked winded, she handed the arrows to the princess who began shooting immediately.

"I know you're decent with a bow, Csilla, you need to-" Aranyos' heart stopped and she lowered her bow, her golden eyes glued on a hulking mass looking up at her from the window. Khal Iyro had found her. The princess drew her bow and shot at him. The khal looked to be laughing at her- until she struck him in the shoulder. Iyro pulled the arrow out, snapping it between his fingers before continuing on, more determined than before.

"I must leave. He saw me. None of you are safe in my presence," She explained, strapping a full quiver on her back and a dagger into her boot. Khal Iyro would find them all in his search for her, and Aranyos knew first hand that he would show no mercy. Csilla didn't bother to argue; her eyes filling up with tears, the short blonde hugged her best friend fiercely before watching her disappear behind the shutting door.

* * *

><p>The horde looked ready to move, the Dothraki warriors were mounted and an excited tension filled the camp as they awaited Khal Drakkar's orders. Tawak was nervous out of him mind- <em>how was he supposed to communicate with the khal if there was a question<em>? The young Magyar cursed his friend's rashness as his eyes searched vainly for Drakkar.

"_Az utat, a fiatal Magyar_."

Tawak almost jumped from his palomino, his eyes darting to the person that rode up beside him and spoke Magyar. Khal Drakkar smiled sagely back at him. Tawak settled back onto his horse and nodded decisively- he _would_ lead the way.

* * *

><p>Drogo's blood riders galloped into the smoky town square, wasting no time, but Drogo could only think about Aranyos- he had to find her. Drawing his arakh, he urged Athdikar to carefully make his way through the carnage and toward the castle. The young warrior was unaware of the cheers that resounded from the Magyar soldiers once they realized reinforcements had arrived, his gaze was riveted on the Dothraki warrior who was staring up at the window; Khal Iyro had found Aranyos.<p>

* * *

><p>Aranyos' mind was racing as she ran down the stairs from her apartment, which led her to the upper floor of the castle. It was undisturbed, but telltale pounding and screaming could be heard from downstairs. The princess took the back staircase, hoping to be undetected by the intruders until she could find Khal Iyro- he had to be led away from the other women. Peering cautiously from the skinny window, Aranyos almost cried with relief when she saw the Dothraki warriors fighting Dothraki, Drogo had brought help! Even if it was only fifty warriors, that was fifty well trained Dothraki that <em>weren't<em> trying to kill them. She quickly scanned the square, hoping to find Drogo, but to no avail. As quietly as possible the princess darted for the servant's entrance and out to the stables.

* * *

><p>Aranyos thanked the Mother Goddess that the royal stables had been untouched by the violence. As she made her way over to Arabejla's stall, the princess felt the unshakable urge to look behind her as the horses quieted unnaturally.<p>

"We meet again, _hoshor vado_."

Iyro had found her. Turning around, she saw him standing at the other end of the isle, a murderous gleam in his eyes. Her arrow had not done nearly the damage that she had suspected and he seemed unfazed by the injury. He was coated in the blood of others and the bells on his braid tinkled ominously. Aranyos stuck up her chin defiantly and reached for her bow, she would not go down without a fight. The khal snickered at her and closed the distance much too quickly for her to fire any arrows.

What happened next was all a blur. Iyro reached her at the same moment that Arabejla's head flew over the stall door as she pawed the wood fervently. That was just enough distraction, for the khal looked up at the panicked mare at the same time that a clatter of hooves heralded the arrival of Drogo and Athdikar, who raced down the stone isle toward them. Iyro, stunned, could do nothing other than back up as the bay stallion neared them. In a fluid motion that couldn't have been timed better if they had practiced (no doubt it would have been impossible to do with practice) Drogo grabbed the princess's outstretched arm and swung her up behind him her bow and quiver falling to the ground. Drogo only minorly slowed Athdikar before urging him into a gallop as they fled the stables and the khal.

* * *

><p>They reached the square just as a new round of cheers were erupting from the crowd. The rest of Khal Drakkar's blood riders had arrived and began to flood the square, making quick work of the remaining warriors. Drogo looked anxiously for Khal Drakkar and his big black horse but could not find him anywhere.<p>

"Drogo!" Aranyos shrieked a moment too late. She spotted Iyro who was approaching them with bow drawn taut. Drogo spurred the stallion forward as the khal released the arrow. No doubt it was meant for the princess's back, but having moved slightly forward, the arrow was lodged into Athdikar's hindquarter and with a squeal he tumbled head over heels, trapping Drogo underneath him. Aranyos vainly tried to move the horse but he was almost dead weight and with the khal approaching she drew her dagger.

"You look much better, your highness."

Aranyos looked up at the kind deep voice that addressed her; Khal Drakkar and his warhorse acted as a barrier between them and Iyro. She smiled weakly but was relieved when he dismounted and turned to face the other khal. Rushing over to Drogo, he assured her that he was breathing and in no dire strait, giving her a smile that was reserved only for her. She didn't tell him about the two khals fighting just beyond his sight and took a moment to assess Athdikar. The arrow wasn't bone-deep, but because it was in a place she couldn't stop the bleeding- he had to live with it until she could get him help. Grabbing his bridle, Aranyos tugged on him gently, relieved that he was alert enough to stand. She took a moment to collect the discarded bow and quiver.

Drogo noticed the khals the moment he got up, but was unable to help Drakkar because of tender ribs. Still the princess held his hand tightly to keep him from running into the fray as Drakkar stumbled. The two seemed evenly matched, but Iyro was much younger and was fuelled with a misplaced vengeance that made him extremely dangerous. She couldn't bear to watch, and despite his bruising ribs, clung to Drogo who watched the scene intently.

* * *

><p>It seemed like the whole city was watching this duel with baited breath; they knew it would determine the outcome of the war, but no one dared to interfere, even when Drakkar stumbled. Drogo gripped Aranyos' hand tightly as he braced himself for what was coming, but ultimately nothing could prepare him for Iyro's brutality. He stabbed Drakkar once in the stomach, causing him to fall and instead of dealing him a merciful death blow, the khal simply cut off the loser's braid, tossing it over his shoulder. "Some khal you are."<p>

That was it. Aranyos could feel Drogo tense up, but couldn't keep him from running to Drakkar's side as he lay bleeding on the cobblestone. Iyro turned his attention back to them, but before he swung his arakh he felt a prick of metal touch his cheek; The princess stood behind him, her bow trained on his head as if she was daring him to move.

He let out a breathy disbelieving laugh, "Put it down little girl. You don't have it in you to kill a man."

Drogo looked between Aranyos and Khal Iyro, frustrated that he could not reach a weapon and remedy the situation for her, because the princess's face betrayed her hatred. She _would _be able to let the arrow pierce his skull without remorse.

* * *

><p>The stand off didn't last long before the khal became impatient. He was so close to killing both the warrior-boy and the princess- who's death would unfortunately have to be much quicker than he would have liked. Her arrow was still trained on his temple, but the moment Iyro felt Aranyos ease up the slightest amount he tried to spring into action, lunging toward Drogo and Drakkar with his arakh brandished. The princess would have given almost anything to see the face he made right before death claimed him, but she was able to get satisfaction from the arrow protruding from the back of his head and the growing pool of blood he was laying face down in. Drogo eyed her with an expression equally as mixed as her own.<p>

A weak chuckled came from the dying Drakkar, "We knew better than to doubt you, your highness."

Drogo held his shoulders and head up from the ground. "We must fetch you a healer."

"No. No young Drogo it is too late for me," Seeing that the young man was about to argue, Drakkar continued, "You have grown into the warrior I had always hoped you would become. Lead the horde, _Khal Drogo_."

The name sounded foreign and odd to Drogo, but he focused his attention onto the quickly fading khal who had been more of a father to him than his own flesh and blood. He nodded decisively, accepting the khalasar as his own. Drakkar smiled wearily and heaved a great sigh.

Aranyos, snapping out of the stupor Khal Iyro's death had brought upon her, ran to Drogo.

"He's gone," The warrior whispered, laying the dead khal's body on the cobblestone and shutting his eyes with two fingers. Aranyos hugged him fiercely, more to fend off her own demons than his. He returned her embrace passionately, holding her with all of the emotion he felt. They didn't notice the Dothraki that came to take Khal Drakkar's body for the pyre or the enemy Dothraki that were slowly approaching them.

"_Blood of my blood_."

The princess started, looking up at the two blood riders but not moving from the hug. She would not leave his side again. Noticing that she was unmoving, the two crouched down and bowed their heads in respect. Aranyos was completely confused but their actions until they laid the long braid of Khal Iyro at her feet. "_Khal Hoshor_."

Drogo smiled at her, pulling her up with him buy the hand. "You killed the khal, they are honoring the age old tradition. The one who kills the khal _becomes_ the khal."

The two older warriors waited anxiously for a response. The princess smiled back at him in disbelief; amidst all of the carnage, she became a khal. Drogo moved behind her and braided her wild blonde hair into a tight braid, lightly caressing the back of her neck. The two warriors cheered, causing the rest of the crowd to erupt into a roar of happiness.

* * *

><p>To this day they still tell this story. The legend of the exiled warrior and golden princess whose love for each other ended the bitter hatred between their tribes and brought a reign of peace to Essos.<p>

**A/N: ANNNDDDD WE ARE DONE! There will be an epilogue. Sorry if the writing style gets a little different…I was just watching Romeo + Juliet hahaha. Hope you liked it? Maybe? It will probably be revised, I just wanted to get this out there for ya'll :)**


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